


Of Love and Friendship

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 151,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11681493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: (AU) Chloe Sullivan grew up in Star City, California and with high hopes of becoming a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, but destiny has other plans. Finding a best friend in billionaire Oliver Queen, their lives intersect and take them on a journey neither of them ever expected.





	1. Prologue

 

 _-Prologue_ -

Chloe Ann Sullivan, intrepid reporter for the Star City Gazette, had the kind of life many would dream of. On the outside, it might appear that she was just a regular Joe, hard at work for her next article, living out a dream she’d had since she was just a child. But behind the scenes, her life became that much more interesting. Since the enlightening age of twenty, she had been the backbone of a secret society, a League of heroes that fought the good fight and brought justice to those who deserved it. But it hadn’t all come together easily, like a gift on Christmas with a pretty bow on top. No.

Chloe’s life was anything but ordinary. When she was just twelve years old her father had been fired from Luthcorp, a multibillion dollar company that was cutting costs and relieving some of its lesser employees. Living in a cramped apartment in Metropolis, Gabe Sullivan didn’t know what to do. He’d been working for the Luthors for so long, he really hadn’t given thought to a backup plan should he ever lose his job. But it was clearly in the cards that he not be so easily forgotten about in the business savvy world he’d been in most of his life. Before he could begin packing boxes for him and his young daughter to move in with his sister for a short time, someone had come calling. A young businessman who worked for Queen Industries had offered him a position at Luthorcorp’s rival company and with a small pay raise and the comfort of knowing he and his daughter would be back on track after a move, he accepted.

Chloe wasn’t so overwhelmed with gratitude. Instead, she took an instant disliking to all things Luthor-related and it was with fervor that she kept herself well informed on the happenings of both Lionel and his son Lex. Leaving her favored Metropolis for that of Star City wasn’t a welcomed move and she made sure her dad knew it. But when she entered junior high and found they had a newspaper, some of her ire had dimmed. Writing was Chloe’s passion and the curiosity that plagued her since she was but a young girl had never quite waned. So it wasn’t surprising that while Gabe was working hard at Queen Industries, Chloe was gallivanting around in other people’s business, learning all she could about those around her.

It was Lex Luthor that introduced her to the world of weird. Keeping an eye on him and his many interesting indiscretions led Chloe on an interesting path. Having never been to Smallville, living her life a few hours away in Metropolis’ bevy of activity, she hadn’t taken much interest in the small farm town. But when Lex began investigating various hijinx involving high school kids, she was fascinated. Following his files, she learned that Clark Kent, a local farmboy, was of supreme interest to Lex, and it was with a hefty dose of malice that she occasionally deleted or played with his many files on the Kent kid if just for the joy of getting in Luthor’s way. It was a small victory, really. Her father hadn’t deserved to be thrust out of the business just because they wanted more money; he’d been working his butt for them since before Chloe was born. However, the more she learned about the Luthors the deeper she became in their puzzling and oftentimes troubled life. From afar, she learned of Lex’s dark ways as they grew and worsened while his father appeared to be taking the opposite approach.

Safe in Star City, she was rather happy in some sense that her dad hadn’t stayed on working for Luthorcorp, not when she realized just how far down the rabbit hole they were willing to go. Still, she wasn’t one to watch them tear the world asunder for their own God-like tendencies and so she kept watch over them while going on living her own life. When and if she could, she sent what she knew to the authorities, hoping they might foil the father-son-duo in whatever malicious plan they had next.

When she wasn’t tracking the Luthors or writing up her next article for her school newspaper, she was like any other kid. Except she didn’t have many friends and her reputation as a snoop made her less than popular in some people’s eyes. However, she wasn’t one to be put off by peer pressure or social etiquette and so she went on in the lifestyle she’d gained for herself and was comforted in the idea that one day all of her hard work would pay. She would be a Pulitzer Prize winning investigative reporter; she could feel it in her gut.

Upon graduation, she gained entry into Star City University and immediately absorbed herself in all things journalism. She managed a low-entry internship at the Star City Gazette and was well on her way to reaching her dream. Which was when, of course, life threw something of a curveball at her. Thankfully, however, it wasn’t what she would label as unwanted. Getting into danger wasn’t a stranger of hers; in fact, chasing a story led to a few too many near-death experiences to be called normal. But when she met the handsome figure he cut, she hadn’t really been expecting anything.

She hadn’t seen him since she was twelve, and back then he hadn’t been half as good looking or charming. But when he swept up to her in the Star City General Hospital gala, she found the kind of friend she’d been looking for.

His brow furrowed, a curiosity in his eyes she knew all too well. With a smile that would no double melt the panties off every other woman in the room, he asked, “Do I know you?”

She snorted. “Really? That’s all you’ve got?” Cocking a brow she shook her head in mock disappointment. “With your reputation, I expected better.”

His grin turned amused. “Flattered as I am that you assume this is a social call, in all honesty you look very familiar.”

Deciding to let him off the hook, she shrugged lightly. “Chloe Sullivan. You employ my dad, Gabe.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing what little she’d given him. “So we’ve met?”

“Briefly.” She rolled her eyes to herself. “So long ago bellbottoms were coming back into style.”

“Right,” he murmured thoughtfully, before motioning to her. “Well, you’ve certainly grown up.”

Smiling wryly, she lifted a brow. “Yeah, it’s been widely proven that happens over a ten year period.” Scrunching up her nose, she offered, “Must have something to do with puberty…”

Laughing, he shook his head. “Should I back away slowly before I embarrass myself further?”

“Unless you’re masochistic, most would.” She offered him a playful smile. “If it helps, you’ve lasted longer than most.”

Holding a hand to his chest, he massaged where his heart may be. “That uplifts my ego a little, actually.”

“Should I be thankful or worried?” she volleyed back wonderingly.

Easily, he returned, “You won’t know until it’s too late.”

She relaxed some, trading banter was something she had earned her pro badge in over the years. Standing in the middle of social chaos in a gown that cost her entirely too much was not her forte and she rather despised that she’d been forced into it by her editor. “ _You’ll eat some shrimp, have a glass of champagne, what’ll it hurt, Sullivan? You see anything of interest, go after it and don’t let me down._ ” So far, all she’d seen was a senator drink too much wine and his cougar wife hanging herself off anybody available. Not exactly front page news, in her opinion.

“Before you pour your heart out or attempt anything resembling a come on, you should know I’m a reporter,” she warned, looking up at the handsome man in front of her.

He nodded thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “See, that leaves me in a confusing predicament…”

Her brows furrowed. “How’s that?”

“Well, if you were the type of reporter I should avoid, you never would have warned me… All the same, I have heard that soul-sucking reporters are incredibly intelligent so this _could_ just be a ploy of yours.”

She snorted, laughing under her breath. “Sounds like you have some thinking to do.”

“I’m quick on my feet,” he assured with a shrug. “Besides, you’re the only person in here who hasn’t done all you could to get anywhere near my personal space. So currently, that makes you the only person I’m willing to stand near.”

“For fear of those beautiful women wanting a night with you alone?” she asked wryly, looking at the many women all watching him with salivating interest.

“Maybe if all my interest is on _one_ beautiful woman, the rest will take the hint,” he suggested, smirking.

She looked up at him, unfazed. “Much as I enjoy rescuing poor, defenseless billionaires from the wiles of young women, I’m here for work, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t feel up to playing sidekick to your chastity belt.”

His grin, if possible, grew larger. “If not sidekick, why not just entertain me a little while longer with that dry wit of yours?”

She frowned, not sure if she really wanted to hang around with somebody who was already garnering entirely too much attention.

“Come on… Reporter or not, nothing appears to be calling your curious nature. What’s a few minutes spent making a new friend?”

He was good, she decided. He had that soothing type voice that made a person doubt themselves and put all their trust in him. And it wasn’t as if her alarm bells were ringing; she just hadn’t felt like being booby prize for Star City’s regular playboy. But what was wrong with giving a friendship a try? The closest thing she had to a friend was her cousin Lois, and she was living all the way over in Metropolis, currently working for The Inquisitor. Late night phone calls aside, she kept herself busy with school and work so making friends wasn’t high on the list. Or at least she told herself that. Most people didn’t want to get close to anybody willing to go digging to deep into their background and the intensity with which Chloe put into most everything kept the others at bay. Was it her fault she knew what she wanted and wasn’t going to let anything get in the way?

“Fine,” she agreed though leery with the idea. “But if at any point I feel like I’m playing wingman, things will not turn out well for you.”

Smirking, he nodded obligingly.

And that was the night it all changed. Oliver Queen met Chloe Sullivan and though tentative at first, a friendship had begun. The rest of the evening had been spent in a battle of wits, discussing everything from politics to the latest in ugly fashions roaming the room. Standing on the outside, she was actually comfortable looking in for the first time. Because now, she had somebody to share her scathing, if not funny, remarks with. He could’ve gone out and enjoyed himself, getting caught up in whatever those around them might want to discuss. But instead, he stuck around and he gave as good as he got, returning each of her snarky jabs with barbs of his own. By the end of the night, she was flushed with amusement and found she’d actually really enjoyed herself. From there, he asked if she’d like to meet him for coffee some time and after an exchange of business cards, they were well on their way to a long lasting friendship.

What began that night would not only be two acquaintances reconnecting, or two people more comfortable on the outside entering the in, but of two people with a future of legendary proportions starting them on their journey. Where once Oliver would had lived a life of solitude, only allowing people within arm’s reach, he would open himself up and lay all of himself out on the table. And where Chloe had previously put all of her undivided attention on her career, deciding that outside relationships were best kept to sources, she would learn to let down her walls and welcome a friendly face. And as their friendship grew, so would their destinies. A path was forged and with the tools at their disposal, the resources between them, the world would soon be met with a powerful force. In work and play, they would find that what they’d sought in life was but a pittance of what they could and would do. And from the strongest of friendships would grow the deepest of loves.


	2. I. Of Coffee Dates and History Lessons

 

**I.** _Of Coffee Dates and History Lessons_

Wednesday mornings were the best of the week. They were only halfway through the chalkboard list of available drinks for their latest café and so, sitting across from each other in a booth secluded from the masses, they narrowed their eyes at each other while sipping today’s beverage. It had become a ritual of theirs to try every drink offered and then rate it from one to ten (the higher the better). Because they had different tastes, this would then lead into an argument over their individual opinion and why they rated it as they did. Over the last few months and subsequent Wednesdays, she found a friendship in Oliver Queen she never would’ve considered had he not forced himself into her personal bubble that night.

Figuring their meeting was a one time thing that she would later look back on with fondness, she was soon surprised to find he wasn’t so willing to walk away. In fact, he was pretty damn persistent that it _not_ be a memory. While her history with friendships was pretty bare, she had a feeling theirs wasn’t exactly _normal_. Where other people might’ve left things casual, offered up a vague chance of meeting for coffee sometime, they weren’t so subtle about it. He sent her a basket of different kinds of coffee from all over the world. The scent alone had her usually icy reserve toward strangers melting in a puddle of java goodness. She found it on her desk the very next morning, with a short card that stated a date and time for them to meet.

However, the following Tuesday he’d decided on they’d both run into problems.

“Queen,” he answered his phone stiffly.

“Of what?” she replied, brows lifted as she leaned back in her chair.

“Chloe,” he said, apparently recognizing her snark already. “To what do I owe this random call?”

“Work,” she sighed. “That coffee we were supposed to have, I’m going to have to raincheck.”

“Is this just a pitiful excuse to get out of playing nice with the billionaire?” he queried, suspicious.

She grinned. “I’m sure I could’ve come up with something better than that. But in all honesty, I’m swamped and I have to chase down a politician wearing top of the line running shoes. He’s got a head start on me, so playing catch up is about all I can take right now.”

He laughed lightly. “All right, why don’t you give me a call when you can fit me in?”

Still surprised that he wanted anything to do with the sarcastic reporter he met, she bit her lip skeptically. “If I walk into this café and get doused in pig’s blood, the consequences won’t be pretty.”

“How I’d orchestrate that I don’t even want to begin to consider… But I guarantee you, there will be no Carrie-esque moment. It’s just coffee and conversation, no underlying agenda.”

She wasn’t used to that; at all. Everybody had an agenda. And that usually included her. However, she wasn’t interested in Oliver Queen, in any way, shape or form, so what her own agenda was still seemed pretty non-existent too.

“Okay…” With a shrug, she accepted that her only two options were to take a chance or walk away… And she’d never been good at turning her back on anything. “I’ll call you.”

“Good.” Noise filled the background and the unmistakable sound of stiff upper-class businessmen wanting attention let her know their phone call was over. “Looks like I have some work to tend to as well.”

With that, the call ended.

And when she arrived at work the next day to find the most expensive pair of running shoes she’d ever heard of sitting on her desk, she could only roll her eyes. “Hope you catch him. –Oliver” the card read, and the amusement that flooded her was enough to take off any lingering irritation over just how much work was getting to her.

They agreed to meet the following Saturday when she’d finished up her article and had the dirty politician on her list officially crossed off. But this time, as she was getting ready to meet him, it wasn’t her with the excuses.

“Sullivan here, what’ve you got?” she answered her cell.

“Entirely too many people glaring at me,” he sighed.

Her lips quirked. “What’d you do now?”

“What makes you think it’s _my_ fault?”

She cocked a brow. “Process of elimination?”

“Yeah, well… I might’ve had something to do with it. And if I didn’t, they still expect me to clean up their mess.”

She nodded understandingly. “So no coffee?”

“Not today.” She could hear his frustration on the phone and for a moment, she wondered how it was she and him even began this weird phone tag of theirs.

“Raincheck then,” she offered easily. “You know the drill. Call me when your schedule’s free.”

“All right, but in future we should find a way to avoid work in these instances.”

“Duly noted.”

They didn’t end up meeting for three and half weeks after their initial one-on-one at the gala. It was an early Wednesday when he called her out of the blue. Fresh out of the shower, she nearly slipped in a puddle of water as she hurried for her phone. She expected a source, or Jim her editor grumpy over something or other. Instead, she found Oliver on the other line.

“What’re you doing right now?” he asked plainly.

Looking around, she answered candidly, “Dripping on my floor.”

He snorted. “How long will it take for you to get dressed and meet me at the coffee shop on the corner of Main and Johnson?”

Glancing at the clock, she shrugged. “Twenty minutes.”

“Good. I’ll see you there.”

Shaking her head, she hung up. Throwing on a pair of pressed pants and a sweater that had seen better days, she tied her hair in a knot at the back of her neck before hooking her laptop bag over her shoulder and heading out. She wasn’t far from the café he was talking about, in fact it was on her usual walk toward work and the same place she often picked up a to-go cup of java to buzz her system awake. When she stepped inside, she automatically looked above the door, half-expecting the aforementioned blood to rain down on her.

She could hear him snickering from behind a paper. “You’re more suspicious than I am,” he said, looking up at her from his seat behind a secluded booth.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied, drawing her bag off and heading toward him. Glancing at his mug, she wondered, “What’re you having?”

“I picked the first thing on the list.” Frowning, he tilted the cup toward him. “I’d give it a six. Not the best I’ve ever had.”

Taking his reply as a challenge, she ordered the same and sat back to see how his taste buds matched her own. With a scrunched nose, she shook her head. “Six was being merciful…” she muttered.

Leaning forward, he laid his forearms on the table and stared at her challengingly. “Yeah? Why?”

And that was where it all began; their regular Wednesday coffee date. Where work had interrupted before, it was very strictly put off until _after_ they had their usual morning routine, and while his many associates weren’t exactly thrilled, they didn’t argue. She couldn’t blame them, he was just as argumentative as she was and when he believed in something, he held on with both hands and wouldn’t be denied.

Now, four and a half months later, it was second nature for them to wait competitively for the other to sample the goods.

“On three?” she asked, brow cocking.

He nodded obligingly.

“One – two – three –“

“Seven!”

“Four!”

Eyes wide, they stared at each other as if they’d just seen something alien. “What?” they exclaimed loudly, laughter ringing.

The other patrons ignored them; either used to them by now or simply not bothered enough to do anything about it.

“A four?” she asked, shaking her head. “Did you hit your head on your gold-plated floor this morning?”

He snorted. “It’s not gold, it hardwood. And there’s no way you can _possibly_ think this crap is a _seven_!”

“Crap? Last week’s was crap but you were in your element!” Rolling her eyes, she pursed her lips. “You’ve been snorting caviar too long if you honestly believe this is any _less_ than a seven!”

“And you must’ve been inhaling ink fumes before you showed up, because you’re dreaming.” He shook his head, grimacing as he stared down at his cup. “I was being _polite_ when I said four.”

“I’m taking you to a doctor, there’s obviously something rattling around in your head where it _shouldn’t_ be.”

He grinned, unoffended. “I just saw him last week and he agrees you’re the reason for my high blood pressure.”

Laughing, she leaned back in her seat in amusement. “ _That_ I might take credit for.”

When they weren’t arguing over coffee and just how opposite their tastes were, they were sharing their day-to-day lives. She swore that after a year, all of 56 Wednesdays, she’d know Queen Industries and the inner workings of it all just as well as he did. He took pride in what he did, but she knew that he took it seriously more in memory of his parents than anything else. That was a subject he’d touched on only a few weeks prior and one she’d been careful to tread around.

It was the ringing of her phone that had brought it all to the forefront. Picking it up, she found her dad on the other line and after a short conversation in which he apologized for not being able to make it out to see her, her good mood was dashed.

“Work?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Chewing her lip, she shook her head. “No, my dad… Canceling again.”

He nodded. “You know, considering I _employ_ him I can probably arrange for some time if he needed it…” he offered.

“Yeah… Well, there’s a difference between needing and wanting, right?” She smiled sadly. “He loves me, I know that. But sometimes, work comes first… Unfortunately, sometimes is really more of _usually_.”

He reached out, covering her hand in his. “You and your dad, you guys have kinda been living separate lives since you were a kid, haven’t you?”

Pursing her lips, she nodded. Admitting this kind of stuff, _talking_ about it at all, wasn’t something she was used to. Then again, she’d never really had anyone to talk about it _with_.

“So what if in this instance, he’s not avoiding you but instead doing what he’s used to…?”

She looked up, confused but interested in seeing where he was going.

He lifted a shoulder. “You guys have been living apart for so long maybe he’s just scared that when he gets some time for the two of you, he’ll find out just how long it’s really been…”

“I guess I never really thought of it that way…” Frowning, she cocked a brow. “So he’s avoiding me because he doesn’t want to admit he’s been _avoiding_ me…”

He half-smiled. “I didn’t say it was smart, I just said it was something people did.”

“No, you’re right…” Shrugging, she sighed. “He’s worked all my life and he takes it very seriously… He’s always done his best to provide for me, I just think part of that should’ve been more of him actually _being_ there.”

“And he probably knows that… _now_.” Squeezing her hand comfortingly, he let go, leaning back in his seat. “Admitting our failures isn’t easy.”

Looking up at him, the pieces came together all of a sudden. “Here I am complaining about my dad and I completely ignored that your parents weren’t just absent…” She frowned apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted gently. “It was a long time ago.”

The distance his voice forced into the subject only made her grab onto it tighter. “If anything, time only heightens what we feel.”

Staring at the table, his jaw clenched.

“You were five, weren’t you?” she probed softly.

“Yeah.” His voice now was thick, hard with past and present emotion.

“Must’ve been hard… Having no one…”

He glanced up at her. “Absent or dead, I don’t think either of us was swimming in parental supervision…”

Nodding tentatively, she licked her lips. “Right, but… eventually, I knew my dad would come home.”

He wouldn’t look at her now, instead glaring at the tabletop intensely.

“And I could call him, I guess, if I needed to hear his voice.”

She watched him, waiting for the open book she’d met to appear.

“Don’t go reporter on me now, I was just beginning to think you _weren’t_ of the soul-sucking variety,” he said, his humor falling flat.

“This isn’t reporter mode, Ollie…” Reaching out, she tucked her hand in his once more. “This is just friend-Chloe.”

Slowly, he let his eyes meet hers. “What do you want me to say? Things were good until then and after…” He tipped his head darkly. “Not so much.”

Her brows fell heavy over her eyes. “Losing one parents is hard enough, but to lose them both…”

He smiled sarcastically. “But I was a billionaire at five, what’s not to love, right?”

“Wealth doesn’t come _near_ to equaling what you lost…” She frowned. “Is that what other people thought? That you’d be fine, because you were financially set, with or without them?”

“They thought a lot of things… Hell, if I’d been older, they would’ve accused me of causing the crash…” He grimaced painfully.

“You were just a kid…” she murmured.

He pursed his lips. “And I grew up fast.”

“Did you?”

Staring at her a stark moment, he breathed out a heavy sigh. “I thought I did… In between their deaths and prep school, I did everything to _not_ feel. Thought it would be more mature of me if I didn’t act like the poor, orphaned billionaire.” His brows furrowed. “But acting mature was more like bullying.” Clenching his teeth, he scowled. “I wasn’t anyone to be proud of then… I was angry, alone, so I took it out on others… and they let me.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah.” He laughed humorlessly. “Well, mine were more of an epic failure, really.”

“You were _just_ a kid!” she repeated.

“So were they… Didn’t stop me any.”

Nodding, she slid closer to him in their booth. Being this physically close to anyone was rare for her, but she wasn’t about to draw back because of a little discomfort. “You can’t live your life regretting what you did once upon a time… You’re better now; you’re definitely not picking on anybody as far as I can tell…”  
“Who said life was a scale though?” he wondered bitterly. “That my bad deeds could be outweighed by my good if I tried hard enough?”

“Nobody… We force the belief onto ourselves…” Sighing, she shrugged. “If you live the rest of your life trying to make up for what you did when you were a hurt kid then you never really get past it.”

“What if I’m not supposed to?” he muttered.

“I don’t think you were meant to spend the next fifty years miserable because you screwed up in prep school… If that was the case, every one of us would be depressed beyond measure.” She looked around pointedly, “You don’t think these people have made mistakes? But they go on, they live their lives, they be who they were meant to be. We change, we grow, we learn. That’s all we can do.”

“And you?” He looked back at her curiously. “What mistakes have you made?”

She smiled sadly. “There are a few reputations in the past that I didn’t think twice about ruining… Back when I thought reporting meant taking everybody’s dirty laundry and hanging it where the world could see…” She shook her head. “And I’ve made my amends, to them and myself…”

“Hmm,” he mused, looking around him to watch the many patrons of the café come and go, laughing and talking, moving forward. Coming to a decision, he turned to her once more. “Tell me more about your childhood, the good and the bad…”

Hesitant at first, she agreed. And from there the complete and total honesty policy had been enacted. They weren’t always good people and they screwed up enough between them to last a lifetime, but if they were going to make any steps to grow from those people, they’d first have to admit to what they did and understand it fully. So they shared and they spilled and for the first time in either of their lives, they entrusted their entirety in someone else. The secrets, the mistakes, the triumphs, the fears, and everything in between.

And when all was said and done, they’d made a true friend in each other.

“You know, I’ve never really had a best friend before,” she admitted. Cocking her head to the side, she added, “Well unless you count the invisible girl I knew in kindergarten… She wore a red hat all the time and called herself by various dessert names…”

He laughed. “Huh, well… I’ve had friends, not good ones mind you, but never really a _best_ friend.”

Grinning, she held out her hand. “Then we can be each other’s firsts.”

Shaking his head agreeably, he smiled. “Somehow, I don’t think this is quite how most people would come to this conclusion.”

Smirking, she shrugged. “Well, we’re not most people then, are we?”

“No…” He shook his head, rather happy by the idea. In fact, he really wouldn’t want it any other way.


	3. II. Of Interviews and Integrity

**II.** _Of Interviews and Integrity_  
Chloe Sullivan was not happy. If her editor dropped any more hints he’d be long past suggesting and well into ordering. Deciding to stop by the object of her aggravation’s house before she made her way into work, likely for another not-so-subtle pep-talk from her boss, she parked her VW bug next to his jag and bypassed knocking to instead walk inside without waiting for the butler. She’d spent enough time at Queen Manor to have an open pass whenever she felt like popping by and so the staff weren’t fazed by her sudden appearance half-stomping through the expansive lower half of the house, a frown well in place.

If somebody had told her a year ago that she’d be the current best friend of Oliver Queen she would’ve laughed uproariously and then asked for their fortune teller’s name and address so she could out them as a complete fraud. Well into her first year of college she’d only had eyes for school and journalism and then a random meeting with Oliver led to a kindred humor and a night that would long remain in her memory as one of the best of her life. Although _now_ , that was seriously coming into question. Her entire life she’d been set on becoming a serious journalist and had taken a critical eye to anything resembling gossip. So to have her editor needling her for a one-on-one interview with said best friend was _not_ the best way to get into her good graces. In fact, it put her into one very foul mood.

She paused at the living room, searching with narrowed eyes for the person of her main focus, only to find Joseph, Oliver’s faithful butler and mentor since he was a young boy. Her anger softened some, if only because Joseph was one of her few favorite people. “Hey Joey,” she called out, smirking as he frowned at the use of the nickname she’d given him some time ago. “Where is he?”

Lips turning up in mild amusement he directed his eyes to the right and she took it as her cue to go further down the hall.

She found him in the kitchen, the large bay window behind him letting the sun fall down on his rumpled appearance. This was probably _exactly_ what her editor wanted; a real look at the man behind the reputation. To get pictures of him with his hair still messy from sleep and the dark whiskers darkening his jaw would be a fresh outlook on the usually well kempt Oliver Queen. That he was still in his pajamas, striped green pants and a white t-shirt, would no doubt have the women readers sighing with awe that he could even _have_ a dressed down side, not to mention actually making it look good. That only furthered her miffed opinion of the whole situation.

She glared at him, somewhat expectant that he _feel_ her ire without her having to say a thing.

The paper he held in his lap was folded in half, the business section clear for his perusal. A mug of steaming coffee sat to his left with a half-eaten bagel next to it; it was the scent of coffee that broke her resolve. Dropping her laptop bag to the floor, she made her way to the counter to fix herself a cup before joining him at the table. Plopping into her seat heavily, she picked her glare back up. “This is all your fault,” she muttered, tapping the excess coffee off her spoon against the edge of the cup before dropping it to the table. Sipping carefully, she watched as he glanced up at her curiously, not the least bit put out by her irritation.

“Good morning to you too, Sunshine.”

She frowned at the usual nickname but ignored it for the moment. “My editor wants an interview with the _illustrious_ Oliver Queen.” She rolled her eyes. “And apparently, because I’m one of the few people alive who put up with your charming self, I was nominated.”

Chuckling, he simply waited for her to continue.

Not to disappoint… “It’s not as if there’s anything more interesting going on… We’ve only got hurricanes, tsunamis, you know, nothing _news_ worthy…” she muttered caustically. “And let’s not even start on the idea that _hey_ , friends don’t usually appreciate being used to boost ones career. But does he hear that? No. All he thinks is ratings, ratings, ratings, and for reasons I still don’t understand, your mug actually garners them.”

Eyes back on his paper, he replied with his usual arrogant drawl, “Deny all you want, we both know that deep down you find me incredibly attractive.”

A snort was all she answered with to that. “We’ve got the avian flu and a war in Iraq, but what _really_ matters is what kind of underwear you wear!” She shook her head, frustration clear in the tense set of her shoulders.

“Boxer briefs,” he replied casually, lifting his coffee to his mouth.

She ignored him entirely before whirling around to pin him with an incredulous face. “Did you know there was an earthquake in Kashmir? No! You know why? Because people are more interested in reading about your relationship status than world news! That’s not okay!”

“Single.”

“I get that you’re some prime piece of real estate to the female masses, but just once I wish someone would pay more attention to what was happening around us and not what’s going on in our pants!”  
“And if it’s a defense mechanism?” he offered.

Her brows furrowed, the air of her argument suddenly going out of her. Confused, she cocked her head questioningly, urging him to continue.

Dropping his paper, he looked at her thoughtfully. “What if we naturally ignore the plights of the world and immerse ourselves in trivial things because we can’t fathom the atrocities that happen daily?” He shook his head remorsefully. “All around us people are being robbed and murdered, their houses are being foreclosed, and natural disasters are wiping out whole cities, what do you _say_ to that? How does someone react?” Frowning, he lifted a shoulder. “Unfortunately, we’ve gotten used to burying our heads in the sand and we’d rather pay attention to those we think have it better, or those we admire, than what we _should_ be doing.”

She stared at him a long moment. “Sometimes I forget why I come to you when I need to rant… And then you go wise on me and I remember.”

He grinned, clearly smug.

With a frown, she shook her head. “I’d rather not encourage the Ostrich effect though…”

“It’s just a little interview… _I’m_ not offended,” he offered carelessly.

Chloe paced the kitchen floor, a menacing look on her face. “This isn’t about an interview… I mean yes,” She rolled her eyes, “My editor would _appreciate_ my getting an interview from you, but _I_ don’t want it.”

Glancing up at her, he smiled. “This is one of your I-want-to-be-taken-seriously-and-your-dimples-don’t-help-matters talks again, isn’t it?  
”  
She glared witheringly at him. “All I’m saying is my career should earn its way up the ranks _without_ the help of _your_ smile.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter, in a career sense, to use all the resources you have at your disposal?” he queried, lifting a goading brow.

Huffing, she shook her head. “I’m going to get my own desk and never wonder if it was because of my ties to you.” Sitting down with a frown, she stared at him. “We’re friends and I appreciate it, but I won’t _use_ you to get myself higher up the ladder.” Staring at him searchingly, she asked, “Can you understand that?”

Sighing, he sat forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I suppose I should be flattered, right? That you would rather sacrifice a quick jump in your career because you take our friendship to heart.”

She smirked. “Play the unaffected billionaire all you want, Queen, but we both know that deep down you love me and when push comes to shove, you’d pick me too.”

He lifted a brow, deciding not to reply.

With a soft chuckle, she reached out to grab the other half of his bagel and then held her hand out, fingers wiggling in askance.

Rolling his eyes, he plucked the world news section from his newspaper and handed it over. “Your article wasn’t half bad, even _if_ I found a typo.”

She glared, turning the page over to find her article, searching for any evidence he was telling the truth. “You’re just trying to prick my temper. I spell-checked until I was blue in the face.”

He smirked.

Glaring, she sighed. “Not funny.”

“Kinda funny.”

She shook her head.

In reply, he smilingly nodded.

With a pout, she took a hefty bite of his bagel, eyes narrowed disapprovingly at him.  


She’d have to be at work in a half hour, but reading the paper in the comfort of his kitchen was a rare moment of peace. Or it was when she didn’t show up, blow up, and get calmed down by his usual knowing tactics. It was really no question why the two of them were such good friends; she’d never had anyone understand her quite like he did. And if the way he stuck around meant anything, she thought he might just feel the same. This friendship thing wasn’t half bad.


	4. III. Of Memories and Days Off

**III.** _Of Memories and Days Off_

Oliver Queen was more than happy to sleep in; but according to a certain blonde best friend, sleeping in consisted of nine in the morning. He’d been looking forward to some time well after noon, but she wasn’t having it. Content in his bed, with thick blankets and full pillows, he’d been buried far away from the persistent sunlight invading his bedroom and doing well at it too. There was nothing to stop the bundle of excitement that crept into his room and jumped on his bed, however. At twenty years old, one might expect a less exuberant good morning, but Chloe Sullivan was not what anyone would specify as _usual_.

The jolt of his mattress woke him up but he closed his eyes just as soon as he realized it was only her.

“How many blankets are you buried under?” she muttered as she went digging to find him.

“I need better security detail,” he replied on a sigh. “If they can’t even keep out _you_ , what _can_ they do?”

She snorted. “I’m incredibly adept at getting in and out of places without security finding me, thank you.”

“That’s not what my lawyers were saying last month.”

He could _feel_ her glare. “I trip an alarm _one time_ …”

He grinned, still comfortably hidden away in his fortress of sleep. “Funny how people don’t appreciate your snooping.”

“Yeah, well, the world can rest easy today because I don’t plan to do any snooping.”

His brow furrowed. “Has the apocalypse arrived without my knowledge?”

“As if! You’d be the guy with the tickets to the specially built spaceship off the planet, remember?” She laid back on the bed next to him, arms likely tucked behind her head. “While all of us lesser beings and our regular paying jobs would go on oblivious, you’d be jumping ship to Mars or wherever!”

Drawing the blanket back, he stared at her sleepily. “First of all, you’ve been watching _way_ too many sci-fi conspiracy flicks lately.” She grinned. “And secondly, if I was abandoning the planet before Armageddon hit, you better believe I’m taking you with me.”

Her grin softened into a sweet smile.

“Who else am I going to sacrifice to the alien species we meet on Mars?” he wondered sarcastically.

She frowned. “Gee, and that started out like such a nice moment.”

He smirked. “You’d think you’d learn by now.”

“True, but on the bright side, you’ve surfaced so _now_ we can get out of bed and enjoy your day off to the fullest.”

Frowning, he drew the blanket back over his head. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I _was_.”

“No… You were sleeping half the day away. So up at ‘em, Queen! Shower, dress, and meet me downstairs!”

Mumbling under his breath, some very unsavory things about his favorite blonde friend, he sighed, knowing fighting her was useless.

And when she tossed a pillow back to land heavily on his stomach, he was already too awake to waste trying to get back to sleep.

An hour later, he found her downstairs in the kitchen. Sitting atop the counter, legs swinging, she chatted happily with the cook Eleanor.

“Mr. Queen,” Eleanor greeted warmly, “Would you like me to make you something to eat? An omelet, maybe?”

He was just about to take her up on that offer when the invader of mornings piped up. “Don’t worry about it, Ellie, Oliver’s on a tight schedule.” Hopping down from the counter, she dropped her mug in the sink. “Come on, Grumpy, we’ve got things to do.”

Before he could even protest, she had his arm and was dragging him toward the door. “We are _not_ taking your car,” he said, putting a stop to the very idea.

She glowered back at him.

“It’s not my fault you’re short,” he said, fully enjoying her rancor. “But these legs don’t fit into that tin can you call a car!” Using his size and strength against her, he turned her toward his Jag. “This,” he said reverently, “is a _car_.”

“You just want to show off.”

He smirked. “Flaunt it if you got it.”

Rolling her eyes, she bumped her hip with his. “Yeah, well, since you don’t know where you’re going, _I’ll_ drive.”

Frowning, he shook his head, holding the keys high above her head. “I don’t think so.”

Cocking a brow, she poked him in the ribs, grinning as his arm fell instinctively. Swooping the keys out of his hand, she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Get in, we’ve got things to do and you’re wasting time.” With an all too smug smirk, she slid on a pair of sunglasses and revved the engine.

Wondering, not for the first time, how this woman managed to make such an impression in his life, he circled his car and took up the seat next to her. “Mind the clutch, it sticks.”

They took off out of the driveway in a cloud of gravel. Hooting with the fun of it, she sped onto the road, grinning.

“So? Where are we going?”

She grinned at him mysteriously.

As soon as they hit the highway, he realized just what she meant by short schedule and long day. They made it to Santa Monica in record time though; he blamed it on her driving to which she faulted his ability to ignore her while she sang show tunes all around his bedroom for the first hour. How he slept through that, he had no idea, but when they drew up to the Santa Monica pier, he was just happy she’d managed to get him up. The drive there had consisted of listening to what few CD’s he had in the car or the static-filled radio.

“See, if we’d brought _my_ car, we’d have a collection of music to pick from.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “And if we’d brought _your_ car, we’d have to call in the Jaws of Life to get me out when my legs got permanently stuck beneath your dashboard.”

She snorted. “Shrink a little already.”

“Just as soon as you grow,” he tossed back, grinning.

When they weren’t playfully arguing over music choices, he was trying to get their destination out of her. However, as he well knew, when Chloe wanted to be a vault, she was unbreakable. So when they parked just short of the arched welcoming sign to the pier, excitement was already flooding his chest. He hadn’t been here since he was just a little kid, walking hand in hand with his parents as they showed him everything from the Ferris wheel to the sandy beach below. Looking at her with affectionate awe, he was even more appreciative when she simply shrugged it off.

Standing just short of everything, she hooked an arm with his and nodded forward for them to join in.  
The sights and sounds bombarded him and it was with some sadness that he remembered his childhood. His mom on one side and his dad on the other, they’d swung him back and forth as he giddily told them all that was around them like they couldn’t see for themselves. “ _Did you see that? Huh? Did you? We gotta do that!_ ” His parents had grinned at him, so happy that they’d given him something worthwhile, and they’d gone on to spend the entire day trying out everything he wanted.

“I figure we should eat first because your stomach’s been talking since before you even got up,” Chloe told him, eyes already scanning the area for something they’d both want to eat. “And then…” She grinned, “Whatever you want. You get first pick.”

After stopping at Harbor Grill for a couple burgers and a basket of fries, they took a seat at the food court. He couldn’t remember eating something quite so flavorful, which was a pretty good recommendation given just how many five-star restaurants he’d been to all over the world. Chloe was just as excited as a kid, pointing out which rides she wanted to try and going into detail about her not-so-awesome experiences with certain fair attractions in the past. Figuring they’d be there until the pier closed, he was happy to try out everything twice.

Chloe bee-lined it for the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf just as soon as she smelled the overwhelming scent of gourmet coffee wafting toward them, and with an iced cappuccino in hand they started with the game’s vendors first. From the Wac-a-Mole to the Bongo Beat, they were knee deep in laughter and fun. Winning a few stuffies for memorabilia, some ranging from tiny to one larger than Chloe herself, Oliver couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever had this much fun.

“Which one do you want?” he asked her, looking up at the many stuffed animals dyed in unusual colors.

“Whatever you can win me,” she said, but her eyes kept sliding toward the green alligator with googly eyes. It was comical, something he imagined a kid would love. So with a ball in hand, he measured the distance between himself and the stack of six painted jars. There were four towers and to win what she wanted, he had to take out three.

The man running it was leaning to the side, calling out to passersby to try and reel them into the game too.

He took the first stack out with a clear shot, but the second one he only knocked over four of the required six.

“Two more shots, Slick, win the pretty girl somethin’ nice,” the man encouraged.

“Yeah, _Slick_ ,” Chloe said, chuckling.

Rolling his eyes at her, he released the third ball and smirked as the jars tumbled to the ground.

“You can take one of these here,” the man offered, motioning to the smaller stuffed animals, “Or you can try for a medium. But you miss this one, you get nothing!”

“The pink one’s cute,” she said, motioning to the tiny frog.

“You want the alligator.”

She frowned. “How did you even…?”

Spinning the ball in hand, he smirked. “You want it, I’ll win it. Just say the word…”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she nodded slowly. “All right… But just so you know, if you don’t it’ll be a major strike against that giant ego of yours.”

Laughing lightly, he turned back toward the pyramid of jars. “I always win.” With the arrogance so completely _him_ , he tossed the ball with ease and amidst the clatter, knocked the whole stack over. “She’ll take one green alligator,” he said smugly.

Chuckling, Chloe accepted her prize before hooking her arm with his. “Thank you.” Looking up at him, she grinned. “I owe you won.”

“I have my eyes on a giant pink elephant…” he said, nodding toward the stand a few over. “Think you’ve you got in you?”

Straightening her shoulders, she cocked a brow. “Please, not only will I win it, but I’ll make you and all your manly confidence look bad!” With that, she turned and hurried toward their target.

After cleaning out the games, they moved on to more physically trying rides.

They stepped up to the Eurobungy first; with a giant trampoline they were able to jump over two stories into the air. Chloe offered herself up, fearlessly getting strapped in and giving him a thumbs-up. Hearing her scream both with fear and laughter, he didn’t think there was another person alive who could’ve brought this to him like she had. The day had been nothing less than incredible and it was the thought she put it into that made it so much better.

Hopping down from the ride, she threw her arms around his neck to keep her legs from giving out on her. Laughing, she grinned up into his face. “I guarantee you will _love_ that!”

“Watch our new friends?” he asked, motioning to the pile of stuffed animals they’d gathered.

She gave him a humorous salute before pushing him toward the ride.

She was right.

Anchored in with wires and hooks to keep him safe, he flew high into the air and experienced a sense of euphoric freedom. The screams and excitement of everyone else were drowned out by the hammering of his heart. He hadn’t realized just how much he liked flying in the air with near to nothing keeping him from injury. Yeah, sure, there were trained professionals and some ropes to keep him safe, but being up there he felt like he was flying. And he only went higher, reaching for the sky and the open indulgence of complete liberty.

When he came down, he felt buzzed.

Knowing how she felt now, he slid an arm around her shoulder while his feet fought to find stability.

“Was I right?”

His joyful laugh was the only reply she got.

Arm looped around his waist while she walked with stuffies in her pockets and a giant pink elephant under her arm, they roamed around awhile until he caught his balance.

Dropping their winnings off at the car, they made their way over to the big rides, nearly making themselves sick with the twirling, rocking and sudden pitfalls of roller coasters, swinging wooden ships and roundabout spinning seats. They climbed off the Ferris wheel just as the sun was beginning its fall. The much slower ride left them time to relax from the excitement. Couples and children and families filled out the seats before and after them while they sat atop it all, looking out on the pier with reverence. Bright lights flashed at his eyes, memories of a childhood filled with fun and love bombarding his senses.

They had a long ride home ahead of them so when they stepped off the Ferris wheel he was almost sad when they began walking away, but before they could make it to the car, she took his hand and turned him toward the beach.

“Just a little while longer,” she said simply.

He wasn’t going to argue.

The surf was reaching up to the dry sand, white caps rolling over the green-blue water to spread across the quickly shrinking beach. Arm looped with his, she laughed sweetly as she tugged off her shoes and held them in one hand, dipping her toes in the ocean. There was a breeze that blew the salt water scent all around, making her hair dance around her shoulders and his shirt stick to his body. He twirled her around as she danced in the sand, her eyes bright with the happiness of a good day.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly.

Looking up at him, she smiled warmly. “You needed this.”

What he needed, he thought, was her. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing in life until she stepped into his and turned it on its head. Before, he might’ve slept half the day away and then absorbed himself in a few business happenings, taking for granted one of the few days he had off. A couple years ago, he might’ve spent it with a beautiful woman, but in her bed rather than out in the world, taking in the sights and letting his inner-child out. But Chloe didn’t let him get away with things that would do nothing for him or his life. When he was down, she was there to cheer him up, and he was happy she was there to join in. How this little pixie of a woman had come to mean so much to him he didn’t know. What started as an innocent meeting, a familiarity that struck his curiosity, had turned into a friendship he relied on with all of himself.

The day he first called her Sunshine was the day he realized just how well it encompassed her. She was so bright and warm, filling every darkness that once took over too much of his existence. When she smiled, he felt his own tugging at his lips, like an automatic response to her happiness. When once he thought he was never the type to hide away in a shell, it took her bringing him out of it for him to know he’d been in one. Hiding the real him behind the visage so many expected of him, it was when she tossed uncanny truths at him that he revealed who he truly was. In fact, even _he_ was surprised by the real him. He’d gotten so far into the playboy background he’d _become_ the man, no longer remembering what it was like to be truly happy or to know what his real laugh even felt like anymore. And then her friendship had given him that and he didn’t know how to repay her for it.

They walked down the beach slowly, savoring every minute of the darkening in the skies and the warm laughter floating over from the pier. When the cool water reached for her bare feet, they crept higher up the beach. It was only as the sun finally dimmed entirely and the chill of night began to make her shiver that they left for the still bustling boardwalk. Wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in close to keep the cold away, they leisurely walked to the car. Picking up a bag of cotton candy for the trip, she took the passenger seat this time, their stuffies crammed into the back.

A tinge of remorse made a dull ache in his chest as the lights of the pier faded from behind them. They hadn’t even made it to the highway before she fell asleep and he looked over at her with such tender affection it almost hurt. That somebody could care about him so much, that she could bring him back to a place where he’d admitted his fondest memories of his parents were, it was heartwarming.

He took his time driving home, still wide awake and buzzing after their adventure. Instead of bringing her home, he carried her into the manor, setting her up in the guest room she sometimes stayed in. He’d often considered just asking her to move in but she was one of the few people who’d entered his life and wanted to make it all by themselves. He was used to women coming after him for money or celebrity while Chloe wanted the complete opposite. All she offered him was friendship and in it he’d found peace and hope. Where once his life had felt innocuous, with no real point or bearing, now he had something worth living it for. If only to be around her and her vivacious outlook, he wanted to know where this life of his would take him. And he fully encouraged every twist and turn it had to offer, just as long as she was there by his side.


	5. V. Of Threatening Phone Calls and Stamps of Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AU) Chloe Sullivan grew up in Star City, California with high hopes of becoming a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, but destiny has other plans. Finding a best friend in billionaire Oliver Queen, their lives intersect and take them on a journey neither of them ever expected.

 

 **V.** _Of Threatening Phone Calls and Stamps of Approval  
_

His phone was ringing, _again_ , and if he didn’t get a moment of peace he was going to liquidate his business and disappear to a private island that couldn’t be found on any map… Then again, that brought up bad memories, so maybe he’d just hide out in some overly-expensive hotel with a strict ‘no phone calls’ rule. Work was hectic enough, he didn’t want to hear any more complaints. Sighing as his cell continued to ring, he finally picked it up. It wasn’t Chloe, who was really the only person he would put up with right now. In fact, he didn’t recognize the number. But they must know him, because they hadn’t stopped calling.

“Queen,” he answered stiffly.

“Of what?”

His brows furrowed. “I know that joke, but I don’t know that voice…”

“Great minds think alike,” she replied cheerily.

“I could agree if I had any idea who you are…” he muttered, his brow lifting.

“I’ll give you a clue…” Her voice darkened, “Hurt my cousin, in _any_ way, and I will happily eviscerate you.”

A smirk slowly tilted his mouth. “Spell eviscerate.”

She paused. “What?”

“Spell it.”

“Whether or not I can spell it doesn’t mean I won’t _do_ it!” she exclaimed.

Laughing, he said, “All right, all right, I take you seriously. I’m very scared… _Lois_.”

She sniffed. “She exaggerates when she says I’m a bad speller, you know.”

“If it makes you feel better.”

Harrumphing, she already sounded tired of him. “That’s not the point here. Pay attention! This is my caring-cousin-calls-to-cruelly-scare you.”

“If spelling isn’t your forte, alliteration definitely is.”

“Okay, you’re taking all the air out of this, buddy,” she groaned.

“Would you like to start over?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, he hung up the phone.

Hardly ten seconds later, his cell rang. With a laugh, he picked it up. “Queen.”

“Did you _seriously_ just do that?” she wondered incredulously.

“I thought we were starting over…” he teased.

“I get it now,” she murmured. “No wonder you two get along. You’re two peas from a very sarcastic and snarky pod.”

He cocked a brow. “Thank you?”

She sighed heavily. “If you would take this seriously, I could properly scare you into embarrassing yourself…”

“My apologies. Please, do flex your scare tactics. I’m listening.”

“Mocking me only makes me angrier!”

He laughed under his breath. “Sorry, Lady Hulk.”

“Ugh!”

This time, _she_ hung up.

When all was said and done, he looked back on the whole thing and laughed. From what Chloe had told him about Lois Lane, she was an intense character, and that definitely came across during their phone call. However, she also flustered easy when faced with someone who _wasn’t_ so easily intimidated. If nothing else, he gathered she’d be an amusing acquaintance and when he told Chloe of the call, her only reply was that he be nice; she was family after all.

There was a big difference between being nice and taking her threats to heart though.

He wouldn’t hear from her again for nearly a week and when she called this time, he’d been in the middle of bench pressing. Wiping the sweat from his face, he lifted the phone to his ear, saying a little breathlessly, “Queen.”

“Bad time?” Before he could reply, she continued, “Don’t care. We never finished our last conversation and now’s the time.”

Grinning, he shook his head. “If I remember correctly, _you_ ended that call.”

“Okay, we’re going to do this my way,” she growled. “Which means you’re going to be very quiet, listen to my threats will all the fear of a regular man and take heed! Got it?”

He didn’t reply.

Impatient, she half-shouted, “Well?”

“You told me to be very quiet,” he replied, chuckling.

Huffing, she groaned with irritation. “Did you take classes to be this annoying? Was it taught in prep school or something?”

Shrugging, he moved over to the mat and started stretching. “Not that I know of, but given how well I’m apparently doing I gather I would’ve aced the class.”

“Just pay attention!” she ordered. “Chloe is my cousin, my _favorite_ cousin. In fact, my favorite _person_. And even if we don’t live in the same city, she’s the best friend I’ve got. So I want to make this very clear. _Hurt_ her and I will hurt _you_. And don’t shrug me off. I’m badass when I have to be and when it comes to her, that comes out!”

Smiling, Oliver sighed. “Listen, I hear where you’re coming from. And I get the whole family obligation to call and scare off the newbies. But Chloe’s my best friend and no matter how many times you threaten to gut me, that’s not going to change.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that...” she said, unconvinced.

“Great. Looking forward to it. Are we done? Because I was working out and while my ego is forever getting bigger as I argue with you and win, I should probably get back to it.”

“Win? You haven’t—“

He hung up.

Oh he knew it wasn’t over and yes, maybe he was goading her. But it was fun. And when he argued with Chloe she didn’t get trumped, she fought back tooth and nail. It was one of the things he liked most about her. Whatever the subject, she met him head on and they could debate for hours. So to have this new person there who didn’t know what to make of him, he might’ve been milking it for amusement’s sake. And he wasn’t being _mean_ , just challenging.

The third time she phoned him, he’d been sleeping, and having a very nice dream actually.

“Hmph?” he said into the phone.

“Sleeping? Oops. Forgot I was two hours ahead of you there,” she replied sarcastically.

“Yeah…” Glaring at his alarm clock, he rolled onto his back. “I’m sure you did.”

“Now that you’re not busy, I figured we could get back to what we were talking about.”

“Talking? I believe you were threatening and I was annoying,” he replied, looking out the window to see the sun peeking in.

“Same difference,” she shrugged off.

“Was there a lot more to say? Don’t hurt her, you’ll hurt me, yadda, yadda, yadda…”

“No, see, threats aren’t nearly as effective when the other person won’t take them seriously.”

“Yeah, kinda defeats the purpose,” he mused, snickering.

“So, to prove to you that I’m very serious, my proof is on its way.”

“Doesn’t it make you _less_ scary when you have to _prove_ you’re scary?”

She wasn’t impressed. “How does she _put up_ with you?”

“Believe it or not, most people find me charming.”

She scoffed. “Is there something in the water over there?”

He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to check.”

“Yeah, you do that.” She paused. “So, is my cousin there?”

His brows furrowed. “Not the last time I checked. She should be nice and comfortable in her own bed right about now…” Yawning, he checked the time. “Or on her way over. We’ve got yoga in an hour or so.”

“Huh… So you guys spend like 24/7 together but she has to head home after?” She snorted. “Cheap.”

“She doesn’t _have_ to, but given that she _lives_ there, I can see the appeal…”

“Yeah, mansion or crappy apartment, it’s pretty hard to pick.”

He shook his head. “It helps that all of her stuff is there… Do _you_ usually move in with _your_ best friends?”

“Still running that best friend thing, huh? When are you two going to Harry and Sally it already?”

He blinked. “I feel like I’m supposed to know what you’re talking about, but mostly you’re just random…”

“When Harry Met Sally, the male/female friendship experiment that obviously ended in them realizing it just doesn’t work,” she reminded in a voice that said he was really quite thick.

“Right… That fictional movie that has no bearing on our friendship… How did I miss that?” he drawled.

“Charming doesn’t mean bright,” she snapped back.

“So you agree I’m charming?”

She sighed. “What does she _see_ in you?”

“Again, we’re just friends. I would think she’d have told you this.”

“She did,” she said, a shrug evident in her voice. “Like I’m about to take _her_ word for it. She also said you were nice.” She snorted. “That’s not coming through.”

“Maybe you just bring out my mean side. You’re fun to tease,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Mark my words, Queen. One day, you _will_ fear me!”

“Any idea when that might be? Maybe I’ll mark it on my calendar.”

Frustrated, she expelled a loud breath. “I have to go. Have fun with your yoga.”

“Will do. Pleasure arguing.” Before she could reply, he turned the phone off.

He was half-asleep when Chloe appeared in his room, whacking him with her yoga mat. “Hey, rise and shine!”

“Just a few more minutes,” he muttered, rolling over and burrowing his face in his pillow. “Your weird cousin called me when I was very contently still asleep.”

Snorting, she climbed into his bed, rolling over his prone body to lie next to him.

Peeking out from his pillow, he lifted a brow at her. “Were you aware she thinks we should _Harry and Sally_ it?”

She shrugged, unaffected. “She’s not exactly subtle.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.” Sighing, he turned onto his back again. “Okay… Getting up.”

“Good. While you do that, I’m gonna go get Eleanor to make blueberry pancakes.”

With that, she left him to it.

Chloe wasn’t surprised or unnerved that her cousin was calling him to play the protective cousin card. Given his current relationship with her, Oliver could appreciate what Lois was doing. But he didn’t have any intentions of ever hurting Chloe, so he didn’t see any reason to worry what her cousin would and wouldn’t do. So instead of taking her seriously, he brushed it away and found humor in the situation whenever it arose. She was starting to remind him of a little sister he bugged for the sole purpose of chuckling at her misfortune. She’d start out smug, he’d throw her for a loop, and by the end, she was huffy and he was relaxed from his recent bout of laughter.

He missed Lois’ next few calls, but her messages said it all.

“Even your machine says ‘Queen’ in that weirdly arrogant tone,” she muttered. “I don’t know if you’re avoiding me or just busy… But proof is on the way of my awesome badassedness… So be warned!”

Later that afternoon, a man appeared in his office looking uncomfortable. Dressed rather sloppily, he looked very out of the ordinary in his surroundings.

“Can I help you?” he asked, sitting behind his desk and staring at him impatiently.

Jittery, he looked around as if expecting something to jump out at him. Adjusting his glasses, he explained, “Lois Lane sent me.”

Smirking, Oliver nodded for him to continue.

“Uh… I’m supposed to tell you of how she scared and tortured me…”

“Really?” Oliver shook his head. So this was her proof, some poor guy she terrified and then strong-armed into admitting it. “Let’s just put it this way… Were you scared?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Were you tortured?”

Again, his head bobbed accordingly.

“Okay, great, nice work. You can go.”

“That’s it?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“That’s all I need. Thanks for dropping by.”

“But don’t you want to know what happened? How she works?” He looked around him once more before whispering, “She’s sneakier than she looks…”

Oliver half-smiled. “I’m sure she is. It’s okay. You can go.”

“Your funeral,” he muttered before turning and fleeing.

And Oliver wasn’t the least bit fazed.

Her next phone message was impatient. “I’m going to assume that you already got my warning and have therefore learned your lesson and am now avoiding me because you’re scared… Am I right?”

No, not even a little bit. But she was amusing him to no end.

Work was piling up and in between it and Chloe, he was constantly busy. So not answering when she called that afternoon was just a necessity. No doubt she’d call back eventually; she wasn’t showing any sign of giving up so far. When he finally took a break for some order-in lunch, he checked his messages.

“Okay… I don’t like phone tag… Especially when I’m the only one doing the tagging…” Her frustration only made him chuckle and deciding he’d try his best to answer next time, he hurried through his lunch and returned to work.

By the time her fourth call came, he did catch it.

“Oh, you’re answering…” she sighed. “So I was just getting a rant together to leave on your phone and that doesn’t really help when you finally pick up.”

“You want me to hang up and let you rant?” She didn’t get a chance to answer because he did just that. But when she called back, he answered, laughing.

“You’re not funny,” she exclaimed.

Still chuckling, he shook his head. “Still want to rant?”

“I’d rather chuck sharp objects at your head,” she muttered.

“I can send a picture; you can use it as a dart board.”

“Yeah, I already printed one… Your forehead will never be the same.”

He grinned. “I’m sure Chloe will appreciate how close we’ve become already. You, throwing darts at my poor, defenseless head. And me… putting up with your sad, sad excuse for threats.”

“Hey!”

“All I’m saying is if _I_ were threatening someone away from Chloe, I’d be a little more intimidating…”

“Yeah?” Unconvinced, she told him, “Try it.”

“Who am I supposed to intimidate? Currently, the only person that’s supposedly playing a bad role in her life is _me_ , and that’s only according to _you_. Not exactly the best judge of character so far.”

“Intimidate me then. I dare you.”

“While your fourth grade tactics _are_ convincing, what would that accomplish?”

She sighed. “Well, if you’re so good at it, maybe I’ll learn something.”

“Fine…” Rolling his eyes, he sat back in his chair. “So I’m trying to scare you off Chloe?”

“Yup!”

Nodding to himself, he considered just what he might say if he was faced with a situation where he thought Chloe was in danger from any interaction with the person he was talking to. Ignoring that it was Lois, Chloe’s cousin, and focusing instead on the fact that this person could in some way harm her, he got into character. “You’re going to stay away from her,” he ordered, his tone lower than usual, thicker.

“Am I?” she asked, amused.

“You’ll never see or think about her. If you see her, you turn around and go in the opposite direction. If at anytime she sees you, you will regret it. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to invest every cent I have into destroying you; physically, emotionally and psychologically. And this is no idle threat. When I say I want something done, it gets done. You won’t know when, you won’t know _how_ , but when I come for you, you’ll feel it.” Deadly, he asked one last time, “So what are you going to do?”

Lois was quiet for a moment. “So, the money thing doesn’t really work in _my_ instance, but that wasn’t half bad.”

Loosening back up, he half-smiled. “I took drama in prep school. How to Annoy People 101 was full.”

“And yet you’re so capable of it,” she muttered.

“Yeah, well.”

Taking a breath, she finally said, “You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Whatever she wanted,” he answered honestly.

“And if she ever gets hurt…”

“Trust me,” he said, his voice lethally honest, “I’d deal with it.”

“Yeah… Well, I guess two protectors are better than one.”

“Especially when one has the money to fund the other’s scare tactics, whatever they may be.”

She snorted. “So I need to work on my approach a little. I don’t usually do this over the phone. I’m much more intimidating in person.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” he muttered.

“Good. So… Truce?”

“Depends… Does this mean your Lady Hulk days are over?”

She snorted. “Just wait until I come visit, Queen.”

He laughed lightheartedly. “I’ll send the jet.”

“Seriously?” she asked, voice dropping lower in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be trying to get _rid_ of me?”

“You’re Chloe’s cousin,” he said, shrugging. “Like I said, I’d do whatever makes her happy.”

“Huh…” She tossed the idea around in her head a minute. “You might just get my stamp of approval yet.”

He grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

And before she could reply, he hung up. Because frustrating her was damn funny.


	6. V. Of Butlers and Rumors

 

 **V.** _Of Butlers and Rumors_

If one more person called her to ask about her relationship with Oliver Queen, she was going to take a header out the window. Admittedly, she was only on the second floor and it probably wouldn’t do much damage, but it was the message that counted. Ever since some wannabe photographer snapped a picture of the two of them holding hands in the park, speculation had been high on everyone’s list. It couldn’t just be two friends sharing a regular moment in day-to-day life, and it mustn’t have anything to do with the fact that seconds before she’d tripped over a crack in the pavement and after steadying her from a near face-plant he’d jokingly held her hand to keep her from making a fool of herself. No. It had to be ‘the moment’; the time when friends crossed the boundaries and became lovers. And as if the world had tilted on its axis, people were grabbing hold of the idea with fervor.

The phone was ringing and dear God if it was anything other than a source for her next article, she’d strangle herself with the chord. “Sullivan, incredibly annoyed reporter, what’s the scoop?”

“Miss Sullivan, Jenna Dwayne of Insider Ed—“

She hung up. That. Was. It. She couldn’t put up with this anymore. Scooping up her bag, she fled her desk and marched right out the door, ignoring Maggie, the Gazette’s gossip queen, and instead searched out her car in the crowd of paparazzi. If she revved the engine and motioned to a few that she would happily run them over just to get them out of the way, nobody could blame her. Breaking a few speed limits and avoiding traffic like a pro, she was at Queen Manor in record time. Barging inside, she hardly waved at Joseph before she went rushing upstairs to find him.

He was in the training room, bare-chested and beating the crap out of a weight bag. Right about now, she wished she was doing the same. Sweat dribbled down his tanned skin and any other time she might’ve unconsciously taken in the sight with some twinge of interest, but right now all she could do was scream until the anger reverberating in her throat stopped.

Pausing in his battle with the bag, he rested his fists on his waist and stared at her, brow lifted.

Breathing heavily, chest heaving, she felt a very small part of herself relax. “Exactly how many of your people are trying to get the press out of my hair?”

He looked around, confused. “I wasn’t aware they were _in_ your hair…”

“Well they _are_ ,” she huffed, curling her fingers into her palms. “Not only are they in my hair, but my business, my work, and my ear, asking every question under the sun, because _suddenly_ I’m your new playmate and I didn’t even _know it_!”

Chuckling, he smiled. “If it helps, neither did I…” Lifting a smug brow, he queried, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Oli-ver!” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, okay…” Shaking his head, he sighed. “I’m a little slow on the gossip thread; you’ll have to update me.”

Frowning, she crossed the room to sit on his bench press, shoulders slumping. “According to the oh-so-reliable G! magazine, we are and have been together for some time now. And _oh_ , they have proof. We were caught holding hands in the park which obviously means we’ve been hiding our secret love affair for ages!” Glaring at the floor, she smiled sarcastically. “And don’t even get me _started_ on the fake children we hide in the basement.”

He laughed. _Laughed!_ And she almost threw the barbells sitting by her feet _at_ his head. Except she was pretty sure one of them weighed half as much as her, so she’d just look ridiculous trying to even pick it up, much less throw it.

“And this had you racing over here to scream?” Sighing in mock disapproval, he shook his head. “You’re losing your edge, Sullivan. Starting to get soft on me.”

Standing up, back stiff as a board, she stalked toward him menacingly. “While you’ve been in here, _oblivious_ , I’ve had to battle TV specials and paparazzi hounding me for an interview and details on just how good you are in the sack. I can’t get a minute’s peace and if I have to hear Maggie desperately pleading with me for an exclusive _one more time_ …” Growling, she lifted her finger at him threateningly. “Fix this or I’ll tell the world you have erectile dysfunction.”

Pouting, he rolled his eyes. “Didn’t your dad ever tell you lying wasn’t nice?”

“Who says I’m lying? Apparently, we’ve been hitting the sheets for ages, for all I know, _you do_!” Eyes wide with mocking, she turned and left the weight room, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Fine, I’ll fix it, but just so you know… I’m perfectly capable in that area!” he called after her, ever the smug man she knew and loved.

Glancing back at him, she replied sweetly, “You have until sundown, Queen.”

With a sigh, he grabbed a towel to wipe himself down and for a moment she was captured. Rivulets of sweat beaded down his chiseled chest, getting caught on the edges of perfectly formed pecs and entirely too nice abs. “See something you like?” he teased.

Quick as ever, she lifted a brow. “You may look good but by the time TMZ gets a hold of me, you’ll be black listed from every debutants little black book.” She pouted up at him goadingly, “You know, they have a _pill_ for that problem of yours.”

Laughing, he threw an arm around her shoulders.

It was wrong for a man to smell that good, she decided, especially when just coming out of a gym.

“Trust me, Chlo… If you and I had a secret relationship going on, the only thing you’d be telling the people was that you were fully and completely satisfied on an _hourly_ basis.”

Her eyes widened as a chuckle escaped her. “Little ambitious, don’t you think?”

Smirking, he shook his head. “Nothing little about it.”

“Miss. Sullivan?” a voice interrupted, warranting the two of them to turn.

Joseph, standing in his entirely too stiff butler’s uniform, lifted a cordless phone. “Call for you.”

Her face fell. “I’m not here. I’ve currently moved somewhere that doesn’t have phones or gossip… And just as soon as you’re done telling them that, would you mind helping me _find_ that place?”

Lips curling at the corners with a smile he kept too hidden, Joseph shook his head. “I believe it’s your cousin, Miss.”

“It’s Chloe, Joey… The day I become _Miss_ is the day Ollie here actually woos me into thinking he’s anything more than my flat-chested girl friend.”

Oliver frowned. “With that comforting note, I have to make a couple calls before a certain non-existent ailment gets loose.”

Smirking after him, Chloe took the phone from Joseph’s extended hand. “Hello?”

“Cuz!” Lois exclaimed gleefully. “I _knew_ you’d be there. After calling your office and getting entirely too many busy signals, I realized I was calling the wrong place.” She snorted. “Then again, if I had that hot piece in _my_ bed I wouldn’t be going to work either.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “One, I just got here, and two, that _hot_ piece, as you so _eloquently_ put it, is not and never will be in my bed.”

“His bed, your bed, whatever,” she muttered carelessly. “In any case, I’m just offended that you wouldn’t give your favorite cousin the scoop _long_ before now. I’m waiting for excuses, and they better be many and believable!”

With a sigh, Chloe considered just hanging up. But this was her favorite cousin calling and if anybody would believe her, it would be Lois… After some serious convincing, at least. “Okay, listen to me _very carefully_ …” She paused just to be sure all was quiet and Lois wasn’t going to break into one of her all too reoccurring instances of interruption. “Oliver and I are _just friends_.” Waiting, eyes wide with expectation, she held her breath.

“Oh cut the crap,” Lois whined. “You two have been hot for reach since you found out he wielded the snark almost as good as you do!”

Counting to five to reign in her temper, Chloe shook her head. “I told you then and I’ll repeat it _now_ , for the three hundredth time, we’re just friends. There is _nothing_ going on. I tripped, he grabbed my hand, that was it.”

“Really?”

She sounded so disappointed Chloe drew the phone back to stare at it for a moment, wondering if perhaps a pod person had invaded.

“Uh, yes…” She frowned. “Is there a reason you sound like I just told you your puppy died?”

“Besides the fact that it would’ve been great to have the top article on the latest couple with an inside scoop from the girlfriend herself, yes…” She sighed loudly. “Would it be _so hard_ for you to pull your head out of your work and see the fine specimen in front of you? I mean _yes_ , he’s _beyond_ annoying, but some might look past that for a time when faced with that very nice mug of his…”

Chloe glowered. “I’m well aware that he’s good looking, that doesn’t mean I’m interested in him in _that_ way.”

“Why?” she asked, the full weight of her question heavy in her voice.

“Just…” She shook her head. “Just _because_. He’s him and I’m me and we just fit together the way we do. We’re friends. What’s wrong with that?”

“Your serious lack in sex life is one very good reason!”

Turning her eyes upward with exasperation, Chloe bit her tongue. “When did it become okay to sleep with one’s best friends?”

“When one’s best friend is the number two bachelor in the world,” Lois replied in her _duh_ tone of voice. “Have you _seen_ the man? I mean, _really_ seenhim? He’s… I’ve run out of words to describe the hotness that is Oliver Queen.”

“Gee, that’s so appreciated. I’m so glad that my best friend is currently your chosen fantasy man. I wonder how that affects my own intentions with him… Oh, wait, _it doesn’t_.”

“Fine!” she pouted. “Be that way. Ignore it all you want. But trust me, one day, you are going to look at him and see all that you’ve been missing. And on that day, I’ll be the one yelling I told you so.”

Chuckling under her breath, Chloe grinned. “I wouldn’t expect any less of you, Lo.”

“So no front-page exclusive, huh?” she sighed sadly.

“Well, if Oliver doesn’t clean this mess up by sundown, I’ll give you the first bite on his non-existent erectile dysfunction problem!” she offered happily.

“You are so mean,” Lois said praisingly. “I love it. Call me when you’re ready to go public!”

“Will do,” she assured. “And Lo?”

“Yeah?”

“Write it before I give the go-ahead and the people will know of your Barbie collection!”

“I was _six!_ ” she hollered, offended.

“Not loving the mean side so much now, are you?” She cocked a brow, grinning.

“No, but my pride in you is overwhelming.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

“Don’t forget to call!”

“I won’t!”

After a quick goodbye, she hung up, and turned to make her way downstairs. Part way there, Joseph appeared.

“Sneaky much?”

“Upside to the job,” he replied thinly. “So… You and Oliver _aren’t_ whetting your appetites just yet?”

“What an _interesting_ way of putting it,” she drawled, frowning. “And no, we aren’t. That _yet_ everyone keeps expecting _isn’t_ going to happen.”

He smiled mysteriously at her.

“Seriously? What’s with all the speculation? I know since Harry met Sally people have decided that men and women can’t be friends, but last I checked, yeah, _no_ , I have managed to keep my hands off him!”

“Mm, unfortunately,” Joseph replied, crossing his arms behind his back.

She glared halfheartedly. “Joey, we’ve known each other for what, a year and a half now?” He nodded slowly. “And in all that time, have you ever seen anything between he and I that would further these cockamamie ideas you’ve all got?”

Her grin was smug but as he smirked at her, hers began to slip.

“Miss Sullivan,” he said gently, “It has been my experience that it’s the relationships born of true trust and unfailing friendship that grow the deepest. And it has been my privilege to stand by young Mr. Queen all these years, as he’s grown and changed into the man he is today. But it is my belief that he would not be half of the good person he is were it not for the people, or in this instance, _person_ that has been by him most.” Staring at her like a dear grandchild, he nodded shortly. “It is through those we care for deepest that our own characters are properly molded.” And with nothing more to say, he took his leave.

Standing in shock, she wasn’t sure what to say or do, or even how to process what he’d said.

Yes, Oliver had been somewhat of a rake before they met. While always lending a hand to the many charities that asked his help, he hadn’t put much of himself into anything. He was seen as the billionaire playboy by the press and those surrounding him on a day-to-day basis. And perhaps she’d had some influence on him over the time of their friendship, but it was also her belief that any changing and evolving he’d done was for himself. If he truly was a better person then he did it because it was who he was meant to be, not who she had turned him into.

“Hey,” Oliver's voice interrupted her thoughts, drawing here attention toward him as he stood at the top of the stairs. “I just got off the phone with my PR head; he said he can clear this up given a little time and a lot of patience.”

She smiled, though inside she was still confused and uncertain.

“You all right, Sunshine?” he wondered, concern full in his voice.

Her smile bloomed into a full grin. “Fine. And what have I said about calling me that?”

“Can’t remember…” he muttered innocently. “Must’ve been drowned out by the sudden implication that I might be bad in bed… As soon as I’m free and clear of any strikes to my personal anatomy, I’ll remember to stop using nicknames that suit you so well.”

Rolling her eyes, she crossed the landing to hook her arm with his. “Buck up, ED!” she snarked, glancing below his waist for emphasis.

Frowning, he shook his head. “Not funny.”

Smirking, she lifted a shoulder. “Kinda funny.”


	7. VI. Of Green Leather and Jewelry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AU) Chloe Sullivan grew up in Star City, California with high hopes of becoming a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, but destiny has other plans. Finding a best friend in billionaire Oliver Queen, their lives intersect and take them on a journey neither of them ever expected.

 

 **VI.** _Of Green Leather and Jewelry_

She hated galas; it wasn’t just the overindulgence of the people around her or the fraudulent way people acted, it was that she was expected to be the same. However, over time she and Oliver had created somewhat of a personal bubble at these things. While he still had to be the charming billionaire looking out for the cause or minding his business, most of the time they could slip away and immerse themselves in the not-so-acceptable goings-on of everyone else. Like how Mrs. Cooper was hiding finger food in napkins to fill her purse with or Mr. Chapple had no idea that his hairpiece had fallen off an hour before.

Tonight was _not_ one of those nights, however.

No, instead she was walking arm-in-arm with Ollie as he was forced to schmooze the all too snooty collection of politicians and trust fund babies that made up the soiree. For fear of ticket shock, she hadn’t asked what her own gown might’ve cost, to which he always had another whenever he pleaded for her to come along to the boring gatherings. That didn’t stop her from wondering just how much everyone else had spilled on their outfits though. Or their jewelry. It was with furrowed brows that she took in a very familiar black diamond encrusted choker Mrs. Danderferth was wearing; something about it was gnawing at the back of her mind. She was in full-reporter mode halfway through the gala and so engrossed with trying to figure out _why_ the necklace was peaking her interest that she hardly noticed as men and women went, offering Oliver their greetings and drawing him into inane conversations.

“Earth to Chloe,” Oliver whispered against her ear. “It’d be appreciated if you stopped leaving me to the vultures.”

Shaking her head, she turned toward him abruptly. “Sorry, I just saw something…” Smiling, she lifted her shoulders. “Why don’t we dance? Let your feet do the talking for a few minutes, at least.”

He nearly collapsed with relief, dragging her out onto the floor before yet another crowd could invade his personal space.

One arm around his neck and the other held aloft by his hand, they slid into an easy two-step they’d perfected over the last couple years.

His palm was warm against the small of his back, fingers unconsciously tapping the beat against her skin.

“So?” he asked, lifting a brow. “What caught your attention?”

“Jewelry,” she murmured, brows furrowed.

“Really?” He looked amused. “Didn’t take you for the type to get distracted by sparkly things.”

Pursing her lips at him, she rolled her eyes. “Please, rethink the things that come out of your mouth _before_ you say them.” Shaking her head, she glanced at Mrs. Danderferth who was deep in conversation with someone Chloe couldn’t remember the name of. Her hand kept reaching for her choker, stroking it as if to draw more attention to its elegance. “There’s something about it, it just…” She paused, something falling into place. “We should go.”

He was thrown off guard, to say the least, stopping their dance completely and simply standing there, staring at her like she was speaking another language. “Huh?”

“Now. Let’s just go,” she suggested, nodding quickly. “You’ve awed them were your charm, set a good example, so let’s go home.”

His stared at her in confusion. “I’m missing a large part of this puzzle, aren’t I?”

She grinned. “I’ll explain later.”

Two hours later, sitting comfortably on his couch in jeans and a sweatshirt, she exclaimed, “AHA!”

Oliver startled awake. He’d fallen asleep next to her, waiting for the explanation that hadn’t come. Rubbing his face, he glowered at her. “What?”

Turning her laptop, she pointed to the black and white picture of the exact choker she’d been pondering over all night. “It’s stolen.”

His brow furrowed. “You still have a lot to catch me up on.”

Sighing, she started from the beginning. “Mrs. Danderferth was wearing this really gorgeous choker that for some reason just kept nagging at me. And _then_ , I remembered I’d been perusing an online newspaper from Berlin last month and—“

“You read the Berlin newspaper online?” he interrupted, brow cocked with amusement.

“Hush. I get it translated. Just because nobody else wants to know what’s going on doesn’t mean I don’t want to!” She waved her hands at him to dismiss the subject. “ _Anyway_ , they ran this story about a choker that was stolen from The Berlin Museum in the Kreuzberg district like three years ago and how it was likely lost somewhere on the black market. It was a really rare piece that they didn’t even know was missing until months later. A fake was put in place for it and these guys had to be some pretty professional thieves because that necklace was under high security. In any case, they haven’t seen it in ages and then tonight I’m looking at Mrs. Danderferth who isn’t playing down just how obviously expensive her necklace is and I suddenly remember where I saw it!”

“Wait, so you think seventy year old Mrs. Danderferth was wearing a necklace bought off the black market?”

Put that way, it didn’t sound very convincing. But…

“No, I _know_ she is.” Motioning to the picture, she pointed out, “There are very specific tell-tale signs that show just how dated and rare this necklace was. There was a little coloring damage here and a missing diamond near to the center.” She stared at him seriously, “Trust me, I looked at that necklace until my eyes stung. There’s an off color diamond near the center and the blue satin of the collar is lighter where the coloring damage was. She probably tried to have it dyed but it didn’t work as well as she planned.” She shook her head slowly. “Oliver… That woman has a priceless antique choker around her neck and I’m telling you right now… She _knows_ it.”

Frowning, the weight of what she was saying hit him. “So what do we do?”

“What _can_ we do? If I write this up all I have to go on is what little I just told you. Not to mention, the necklace is an illegal German import, I don’t even think the American government can do anything. Not to mention she’d probably have me crucified for trying and slap me with a lawsuit for making her look bad in the public view.”

He grinned slightly. “No worries, I’ll visit you in jail.”

She glared at him, even as a smile tugged at her lips. “Be serious.”

Forcing himself to frown, he nodded. “Okay.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a geek.”

Raising a hand to his chest, he feigned hurt. “Careful, or _I’ll_ be the one filing for slander.”

Shoving his shoulder, she sighed. “This sucks.”

“Royally,” he agreed.

“This is a _huge_ story.”

“True.”

“And I can’t even _write_ it!” She stared at him, wide-eyed and sad.

“Well…” He leaned forward thoughtfully. “What if you could, but with a different twist on it…?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Nodding to himself, he half-smiled. “I’ll explain later.”

Later was three weeks after their original conversation and Chloe was none-too-happy when the subject came back up.

Standing before her in his second-floor office, a secluded workspace at home, his face was very serious as he said, “Okay, I need you to remain calm and try not to freak out…”

Staring at him leerily, she crossed her arms. “If you’re about to tell me you’re gay or wear women’s underwear, it’s okay, I’ve always suspected.”

Thinning his eyes, he snorted. “Right, and with that grand opening…” Turning sideways, he reached up and twisted a lamp shade. And like something out of an action movie, the wall _moved_.

Staring at in awe, she murmured, “No. Freaking. Way.”

Laughing under his breath, he took her hand and led her inside. Bows and arrows of all sizes and kinds lined the glass shelves of his secret room. Weapons she couldn’t even put names to -and she had an uncle in the ARMY!- were locked into various place holders all around. “What _is_ this place?” she wondered, her voice quiet as if to stop from disturbing her surroundings.

He tugged her deeper inside until they stopped next to where a green leather suit hung perfectly against the wall. “So I’ve been doing a little thinking… And what if I played billionaire during the day and… vigilante hero at night?” he said, speculation clear even in his own voice.

Turning toward him slowly, shock ran rampant in her voice. “What?”

He looked almost nervous as he shrugged at her. “I have the gear and I have a strong background in archery, one that could rival anybody. And that’s not me boasting, I really do think I’ve got a handle on this that very few could even fathom.”

She nodded slowly; he’d told her about the island and what he’d learned there. And she’d seen him practicing before, he was an ace shot. But what he was suggesting here was more than just fun with a bow and arrow.

“If I can keep my identity hidden, I really think I could pull this off.” He stared at her searchingly, waiting for her yay or nay on the subject.

“What _exactly_ are you trying to pull off, Ollie?” she murmured wonderingly. “Because right now I’m standing in your hidden room, surrounded by more weapons than I’ve seen since staying with my uncle as a kid… And you’re thinking about sporting some leathers to play, what again? Vigilante hero?”

He half-smiled. “Kind of. Look, I know how insane it sounds… and looks. But just think about it. With a little more training, I could protect the streets of Star City. And not only that, but think about that necklace and how Mrs. Danderferth got a hold of it. Doesn’t it deserve to be returned to its original owner?”

“Yes, of course!” she exclaimed. “But I was thinking something more along the lines of, I dunno, police or FBI raids saving the necklace from her crusty old hands…” She frowned. “Somehow, I just didn’t picture you playing Robin Hood!”

“Neither did I, really. But, it feels right. Well, I mean the leather’s still a little stiff, but I think it’ll grow on me…” He smiled lightheartedly. “This is a chance to make a difference. The kind of chance a lot of people _don’t_ have…”

Sighing, she rubbed her temples. “Okay, so just let me get this all straight… You’re going to don the suit, break into this old woman’s house, steal her choker and return it to the Berlin museum?” She stared at him, blinking owlishly. “And then, what? You’ll go off and rid the city of crime?”

He shrugged, head bobbing side to side. “I was actually thinking more along the lines of stealing the necklace in public. Because breaking and entering might take a little more than I’ve got right now… I figure, the next gala she’s wearing it at, with a little help from the lights going out I can snag it off her neck and be in and out in a few minutes. Then, ship it off to Berlin via a ghost PO Box and nobody will be the wiser…” He smirked. “As for the crime fighting, I think I’ll get to it eventually. But I do wanna train some first.”

“Train? With who? How?” She shook her head. “Where does one learn to be a superhero?”

“I don’t know about the super part, but…” he replied. “I’ll train like anybody else. I’ll hire instructors for various forms of combat and keep up on my archery… In a few months, maybe I’ll be the _green blur_.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, sighing. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”

He smiled, eyes turning off. “I’d like to try it… I mean, there’s no guarantee I’ll pull it off. On the bright side, if I do get caught I’ve got an army of lawyers and a reputable reporter to prove that my stealing the necklace was an act of humanity. After all, I was just trying to get it back from her…” His brow furrowed, “What did you call them? Crusty old hands?”

She flushed, frowning at him. “Hey, this isn’t about me, _Green Arrow_ , you’re the one who wants to play hero with a good chance of getting jail time.”

“Green Arrow,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I like that.”

 

She snorted. “That’s what you’re focusing on?” Stepping toward him, she reached up to grip his shoulders. “Listen to me very carefully… Doing this has a lot more consequences than parole for misguided good deeds. Playing hero, running around after bad guys…” She stared up into his eyes, fierce worry evident. “You’re not bulletproof, Ollie… People aren’t just going to lay down arms and go quietly because you’ve got a fancy bow and a leather fetish.”

He smiled gently. “You’re more worried about me than anything else, aren’t you?”

She glared at him, but the concern was so obvious she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. “If it means you getting hurt, then no, I really don’t think I care if Berlin gets its necklace back.”

Smiling, he tugged her close, hugging her to his chest. “Star City’s own justice-for-all seeker, Chloe Sullivan, hands in the towel for her leather fetish best friend.”

She snorted. “Shut up.”

Before she could pull away, he tightened his arms around her. “I know what this means and trust me, I’ve thought about the flaws in my plan, _a lot_. But if I can do this, if I can really pull this off, then I have to…” Drawing back enough to look down at her, he cupped her cheek. “And I need you to support me.” He stared into her eyes hopefully, searching for what she was always willing to give.

Softening, she nodded. “Of course… Oliver, you know I’m behind you, one hundred percent.”

Smiling, he kissed her forehead. “I knew that yesterday… Admitting I want to be a costume wearing hero kinda puts a new spin on things.”

She laughed. “Just keep your underwear on the inside of yours pants and we’re okay.”

He frowned. “Yeah… I’ve discovered underwear is kind of restricting in this outfit.”

Face wide with surprise, she broke into laughter.

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, make your jokes now.”

“What’s that, Green Commando? I couldn’t hear you over the ringing of laughter in my ears.”

Arm around her shoulder, he walked her out of his secret room. “Get it all out… A year from now, when I’m the famed Green Arrow and you’re writing about my jewelry heists for the downtrodden, you’ll be singing another tune!”

She grinned up at him. “Yeah, but the knowledge of you running around in green buttless chaps will never leave.”

He stared at her, brows cocked. “Sometimes, I’m not sure what goes on in that head of yours.”

Resting her face against his shoulder, she sighed, still chuckling. “It’s a maze of weirdness.”

“Then I guess I fit right in.”

As the wall slid back into place, she nodded. “Oh yeah… You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”


	8. VII. Of Target Practice and Movie Nights

 

 **VII.** _Of Target Practice and Movie Nights_

With an armful of DVD’s ranging from the Lord of the Rings trilogy to whatever romantic comedy just hit the shelves, Chloe was all ready for their mandatory movie night. Stepping inside the manor, she expected to smell fresh popcorn with just the right amount of melted butter, courtesy of Eleanor, Oliver’s very awesome cook. However, her nose wrinkled when she didn’t smell popcorn or pizza or anything that went along with their usual ‘pig out until we hurt’ menu. Dropping the movies on the couch in the living room, where he _wasn’t_ waiting for her, her brow furrowed curiously.

“Joey?” she called out, looking around for the faithful butler that would no doubt point her in the right direction.

“They’re in the back, Chloe,” called Eleanor, stepping out of the kitchen with her hands wet from the dishes she’d been doing.

“Thanks, Ellie.” Just as she was about to go outside, she stopped. “You know, the dishwasher doesn’t bite.”

Eleanor smiled at her. “Some of us are old fashioned.”

“You want any help?” she asked, already tugging her shirt sleeves up to dig into the clutter of dishes on the counters.

“I think Mister Oliver is waiting on you. Go on. This won’t take me long.”

“You sure?” she asked, lifting a brow.

Eleanor waved a dishtowel at her. “Get out there before he calls out a search party.”

Rolling her eyes, Chloe made her way out the back terrace door. Since Oliver’s fascination with all things green leather and crime fighting, he’d been spending a lot of time training. In between men that pushed him far past limits a normal human being would have and working his hands thin at his personal target practice, he’d had little time for anything else. Which was why tonight, their night to relax, kick off their shoes, forget about work, and immerse themselves in the innocuous lives of made up characters was something she was very much looking forward to.

However, when she turned the corner around his massive house and found him holding his favored bow level with his body, she knew the movies were going to have to wait.

His eyes were closed, his stance somehow rigid and relaxed simultaneously, and she could tell exactly when he inhaled and was ready to release the arrow.

Joseph stood to his right, completely silent, a pair of binoculars in his hand.

“Don’t shoot!” she exclaimed teasingly.

He smirked, but released the arrow with nothing less than superior perfection.

She frowned. “You knew I was there, didn’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “If anything, Sunshine, you calm me down.”

“And I suppose being calm while holding a highly fatal weapon in your hands is a good thing,” she surmised, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she walked closer.

“You could say that.” He smirked, glancing back at Joseph.

“Just to the right of the center, sir.”

Oliver frowned. “Needs more tweaking…” he muttered.

“Or you just _suck_ ,” she replied, smirking.

He snorted. “I would suggest you prove that but I happen to know handing you a weapon would likely mean calling an ambulance.”

“And on that happy note, why don’t we go watch the many movies I picked up!” she suggested hopefully.

He looked back at the target and then at her and she felt like a spotlight had just hovered above her head.

Glaring, she shook her head staunchly. “No.”

His lips curled in a smile.

“Oliver, no!” she sighed.

“Come on…” he encouraged, grinning. Holding a hand up, his thumb and forefinger separated an inch, he said, “Just a _little_ target practice!”

This _so_ wasn’t what she had planned for the Friday she specifically took off each week to spend with him.

Rolling her eyes, her shoulders slumped.

And as if that was the world-wide gesture of giving in, he smirked.

Taking her hand, he guided her to where he’d been standing. Turning her hips and kicking her feet apart, he set her up in the proper position. “You need to ground yourself or this bow’s going to knock you off your feet,” he warned, tugging on a curl of her hair.

She narrowed her eyes at him but dug her toes in and adjusted her body until she felt like she could take on a linebacker and not budge.

He picked up a smaller bow and at her glare, he explained, “You’re not ready for anything I’m working with. It takes time and a lot of work.” Handing her the bow, he cocked a brow. “With all of your expertise in everything else, you really think I doubt you in _any_ capacity?”

Mollified, she took up the bow and awaited instruction. The last thing she wanted to do was show her inexperience in anything. Like he said, she had a pretty full background in a lot of things; hacking, snooping, writing, and the brilliance that was innate. But when it came to weapons, the only thing she could handle was a tazer, and she already had one of those.

Stepping up behind her, his body molded to hers, the pressure of him at her back making her steadier. It wasn’t until he was standing this close that she remembered just how short she really was. He swamped her tiny figure and were it anybody else, she might dislike the reminder. But when it came to Oliver, she knew it wasn’t a slight at her height but instead just his natural way of teaching. He’d always been hands-on and while she hadn’t been comfortable with sharing personal space before, she’d gotten so used to it from him it was second nature. Lifting her arms, he stationed them where she had to keep them set, moving and separating her fingers until they were wrapped around the wood riser. He tightened his hand around hers, telling her silently to grip it harder.

“You see this?” he asked, pointing to small metal piece attached to the grip.

She nodded.

“It’s the arrow rest, pretty self-explanatory,” he said. “But you’ll see that the sight is above it. This is what you go off of. Don’t focus on the tip of your arrow, pay attention to the target and align it with your sight.”

He raised her arms until the sight was level with her face and she could adjust it to her eyes.

Placing an arrow in the rest, he motioned toward a piece mounted on the grip next to it. “This is your cushion plunger; it’s going to absorb the shock. When you let go, your arrow will flex and this plunger will reduce that so you’ll get a straight shot.”

Chewing her lip, she tried to take in everything he was saying, repeating the terms of everything in her head as if he planned to quiz her on it later.

“Lastly,” he continued, “This is your clicker.” His fingertip slid along a thin metal tab. “It measures the length of your draw so you can keep your measurements consistent.”

“Okay…” Even she could hear her ambivalence to the situation. She couldn’t help thinking she’d likely take somebody’s eye out.

“You’ll be fine,” he assured, squeezing her shoulders. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she murmured.

“Okay… Eyes on the prize…” Checking her arms and stance, he touched her elbow. “Draw back slowly, feel the pressure behind it…”

His voice was soothing, his presence helping her. All she had to was focus on him and his instructions.

“Remember your sight, not the arrow tip.”

She nodded ever so slightly. As the string cut into the bends of her fingers, she clenched her jaw. Eyes centered on the target, she took a deep breath, held it, and released her arrow. There was something incredibly freeing when she let go of the string and felt the arrow escape her hands. The weight of it all, the pressure behind it, it made her feel like she had more strength than her petite form would ever have. She heard the thud as it hit something but couldn’t tell what it was. “I didn’t kill a tree, did I?” she asked grimacing.

Chuckling, Oliver glanced at Joseph.

“She hit the target,” Joseph told them both, rather astonished. “It’s at the top of the outside ring, but… It’s the target all the same.”

Excited over her small triumph, she hopped on spot, wiggling her hips and shaking her head side to side.

Oliver lifted a brow, his smile wide. “Proud of yourself?”

Grinning up at him, she shrugged. “Okay, so I can see some of the thrill.”

“It’s not without its upsides,” he replied smugly. “You interested in trying again?”

Deciding the movies could wait a little while, she nodded.

Passing the binoculars to Oliver, who strung them around his neck, Joseph bid them goodbye before going inside.

The next couple of hours were spent under Oliver’s training, while Chloe would probably never be half the archer he was, she enjoyed spending time learning his favorite hobby. And given that he was about to be going out into the world with his main weapon that of a bow and arrow, it was nice to know just how much power one had. Plus, seeing him wield it like he did, her spirits were lifted and her fears doused. At least a little. The idea of having him out there, fighting crime and taking out the bad guys still put her on edge. It was hard to imagine her best friend moving about the city on a wire and a prayer. But the way his training was coming along, she had to admit that he was becoming the perfectly shaped hero before her eyes.

Oliver had never been lacking in a nice body; if only for vanities sake, he’d always taken care of himself. But now that he was doing weight training and working on hand-to-hand combat, she could see as it changed his body. Where once he was lean in some areas, he now packed muscle. And unlike some men, who seemed burly and overly thick, he wore it well. Tall as he was, he had a long form, and with the muscle he was quickly adding, he was beginning to look sleek and lithe, cutting out a figure that only drew more female attention by the day.

While she’d met his instructors, she hadn’t really joined in. Except for showing up early each morning to do yoga with him, she wasn’t so interested in muscling up. She didn’t mind watching as he and a few of his more handsome trainers worked out; she’d even considered selling tickets to the female masses, if only to do them all a favor. Contrary to Lois’ beliefs, she wasn’t oblivious to her best friend’s good looks. She was well aware that the man was walking sex, but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of their friendship. What she and Oliver had she’d never known before; a kinship that made her feel loved and appreciated and truly needed. So yes, maybe some part of her purposely avoided acknowledging the fact that he was handsome, but she _knew_ , she just chose to omit the fact.

As the sun fell beneath the horizon, they were forced to pack up the gear and head inside. Where she was thankfully greeted by the buttery popcorn she’d been expecting in the first place. Still buzzing after the thrill of learning to shoot, she half-bounced her way into the kitchen. Eleanor smiled at her indulgently and handed over a giant bowl of popcorn. “Thanks Elly,” she sighed appreciatively, breathing in the heavenly aroma.

Shaking his head at her, Oliver grinningly made his way into the living room. “What’d you pick up?” he asked.

Using her tongue to grab a piece of popcorn off the top of the pile, she lifted her brows. “Whatever I could get my hands on,” she said with a shrug.

Plopping on the couch, she watched him go through the stack, perusing titles and glancing at the summaries on the back. “Any preference?”

Stacking her feet on top of the couch, she shrugged. “I’ve got all night.”

He snorted, looking back at her. “Eleanor’s heading home, so ease up on the popcorn or you’ll run out.”

Pouting, she stuck her tongue out at him. “Pop in a movie, Queen. Let’s get this night started.”

Amused, he crossed the room and stuck the DVD in.

One of the best things about Oliver’s billions of dollars, after his charitable donations, was perhaps the set up he had specifically for movie watching. A screen slid from the ceiling, covering the usual TV and the stand that housed it. It was like being in their own personal theatre, with surround sound loud enough to make her feel it in her bones. Taking up his seat next to her, he flipped the throw blanket off the back of the couch and over her legs. Resting her head on his chest, she put the bowl of popcorn in his lap for easy reach and waited impatiently for the movie to start. “Do we have to watch the previews?” she whined, scrunching up her nose.

He chuckled. “They’re the best part.”

“No, they’re a giant tease.” She frowned. “By the time the movie starts, I’m wishing I was watching three others.”

“Maybe we already _have_ them.”

Her eyes narrowed at the screen as if it was to blame. “It never works out like that.”

Settling in, he simply shook his head at her.

It was four in the morning by the time the movies had all been watched. An empty popcorn bowl lay ignored on the floor, next to the bag of chocolate chip cookies she’d gone looking for halfway through the second movie. Oliver was asleep, his head resting on the back of the couch. His neck would no doubt be bugging him in the morning. Yawning, she climbed off the couch, pausing briefly when his arm tightened around her. Turning to find he was still asleep, she carefully extracted herself to go and shut off the DVD player, hoping the buzz of the screen retracting wasn’t as loud as it felt in the silence of the room.

Glaring at the all too many stairs that led to the second floor, Chloe moved to cover him with the blanket. Waking him up would only mean telling him he had to take on the stairs too. She was tucking the blanket in when he woke up, looking up at her blearily. “Climb in,” he murmured, eyes falling shut once more.

“There’s hardly enough room for _your_ giant body,” she replied, shaking her head. “And you hog the covers.”

He smiled tiredly before reaching out and maneuvering her in next to him as he spread his long body across the couch. One good thing was that his furniture was much wider than most so as much as she had protested, there was still a comfortable amount of room. Spooned up behind her, he threw an arm around her waist to hold her in place and tucked the blanket beneath her. Sighing, she wiggled until she was pressed to his chest and not teetering over the edge of the couch. Head fit just beneath his chin, she let her eyes close.  
“Night,” she murmured.

Squeezing her, he hummed in reply.

It wouldn’t be the first or last time they shared sleeping space and what she never really took the time to think on was just how completely comfortable it was to be so close to him, warm in his arms, and safe in his embrace. Of course, when his five am wake-up call from his overdramatic weight trainer woke them up, the furthest thing from her mind would be just how right it felt to be there with him. She was just happy their Friday night special had happened without incident. Taking the night off from work was never a waste when it came to spending time with Oliver.


	9. VIII. Of Sidekicks and Bad Disguises

 

 **VIII.** _Of Sidekicks and Bad Disguises_

Oliver was having a bad night. The break-in he’d planned on a certain bad guy had been a bust. Getting past the security system had left him frustrated and in serious need of a certain friend’s magical fingers. Still dressed in his leathers, he slipped in through her bedroom window with little to no problem. She came out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower and wearing a robe that clung to her still wet skin. Rubbing a towel against her hair, she stared at him wonderingly. “Please tell me you didn’t just put your dirty boots all over my nice clean bed.”

He frowned apologetically. “Sorry?”

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms beneath her chest, waiting expectantly. “Not that I don’t mind you dropping by but a phone call would be nice.”

He grinned, pulling his sunglasses off. “I could say the same but you never heed the suggestion anyway.”

She pursed her lips to hide her smile. “Yes, but I don’t come in through your windows dressed for Halloween.”

He snorted. “I thought it was growing on you,” he said, looking down at his outfit.

“Doesn’t negate the many, _many_ jokes I’ll have in future. I can’t just toss the material out because I got used to it.” Taking a seat next to her dresser, she started brushing her hair. “So?”

“I need your help,” he said simply.

She sighed. “Can you repeat that in your normal voice? Distorted-Ollie still creeps me out.”

Compliant, he flicked the distorter off. “Better?”

She nodded, smiling. “What can I do for you?”

“Crack the security system on a certain bad guy so I can sneak inside and fondle their files.”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “Sexually assaulting information now, Arrow?”

“Just a little.”

She laughed. “Fine, but there will be none of _that_ …” She motioned to his outfit with her brush, “For me.”

He cocked his head. “I could order a suit in lycra but that leaves little to the imagination…”

“What’s wrong with dark pants and a hoodie?” she asked, brows furrowed.

“Besides the lack of originality?” he scoffed.

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged. “At least it’s _comfortable_.”

Sighing, he sat down at the edge of her bed. “We’re not looking for comfort here, Sidekick. We need ease of mobility.”

“Hey, I’m just the brains here, _you’re_ the brawn.” Tying her hair in a ponytail, she thinned her eyes at him through the mirror. “You do the back flips and I’ll bend the technology to my will.”

Smirking, he nodded. “Fine, but eventually you’re going to have to get your hands dirty.” Walking to her closet, he started looking for something that would let her move around without standing out.

“From fondling files to my clothes, how low we’ve sunk,” she muttered teasingly.

Rolling his eyes, he pulled out a pair of dark pants and a black sweater. “For now, this’ll do. But I’m still going to get you something better to wear should something like this happen again.”

Rising from her seat, she took her clothes from his outstretched arms. “You know, if you’d just let me teach you a few hacking tricks, you might not _have_ to come get me for these kinds of things.”

“And not share the experience with you?” He shook his head in mock confusion. “Why would I want to avoid that?”

Laughing, she shooed him out of her room so she could get dressed. “We’re not getting dirty, are we? Because my water bill’s high enough without me having another shower.”

Sitting on her couch, he spread his arms along the back. “If you’d just move in with me already, you wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Don’t start!”

He smirked. “You know I’m right!”

With a huff, she replied, “No! I know you’re _persistent_. There’s a difference!”

Laughing under his breath, he shook his head.

Coming out of her room, she held her arms out. “Covert enough?”

Looking her up and down, he recognized, not for the first time, just how beautiful a figure she had. It was no surprise that so many people thought they were together; she was a beautiful woman, and with no small bit of smug confidence, he knew he was a handsome man. “Got a ski mask?”

“We’re not robbing a bank, Ollie!”

“Yeah but we don’t know how many surveillance cameras there’ll be, if any.”

With a sigh, she went looking for something that would hide her face. And came up with a sleep mask that she cut eyeholes out of, with no little amount of grumbling.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he reassured, amused.

Tying it around her head, she glared up at him.

For a moment, it was hard to take her seriously, but when her hands found her hips, he pursed his lips to hide his smile. “Ready?” He was already walking toward her window.

“Zip line?” she asked, her annoyance fading in sight of fear.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, taking her hand and drawing her up onto the ledge of her window.

Staring down at the ground far beneath her, she shuddered. “Yeah, definitely worrying…”

“I’ve got you,” he told her, fearlessly. “Just wrap your arms around me and hold on.”

“That’s it? I just _hold on_?” she asked, her voice raising with concern.

With a roll of his eyes, he tugged a belt out from a green pouch on his utility belt. Sliding it around her small waist and adjusting it quickly, he hooked a tether between them locking it onto his own belt. “There. If you fall, I’ve _still_ got you. All right?”

Reaching over, she squeezed his biceps.

Brows furrowed, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure these things are full of more than ego,” she muttered, frowning.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Just put your arms around me.”

“Fine.” With a deep breath, she slid her arms around his neck and stepped up close. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt your leather butt!”

Smirking, he flicked on his distorter. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” With that, he kicked off the ledge and they were at the mercy of the zip line, flying across skyscrapers and busy streets.

With a squeal that petered out on a sucked in breath of terror, she gripped him tight and buried her face in his chest. Weightless, they cut through the air in mere seconds, landing atop another building. She didn’t let go of him even as her feet touched ground. He unhooked them and cupped her face. “Hey?”

She looked up, still physically shaking.

“I’d _never_ drop you.”

The sincerity in his eyes was what soothed her and slowly, the fire in her own returned.

“Of course not,” she said, stepping back from him. “You know I’d kick your butt if you ever did.”

Taking in the small figure she cut, he wasn’t all that intimidated. But then, he knew the fierce determination she held within her, and while she might not be able to take him on physically, she’d find a way.

“Scout’s honor, I will never drop you.”

Eyes narrowed, she sighed. “Let’s just get this done and over with.”

“Are you gonna stop pouting?” he asked, walking toward the roof exit. “’Cause this isn’t as much fun when you’re mad at me.”

Shoving his shoulder, she rolled her eyes. “What happened to doing good for the little guy? This isn’t supposed to be fun!”

He grinned. “Can’t it be both?”

Climbing downstairs, he led her to the main door of the office he was meaning to break into. Motioning to the security system on the wall next to the door, he shrugged. “Work your voo doo, Sidekick.”

“Keep calling me that and I’ll work my anger out on _you_ ,” she muttered, opening the cover to look at the keypad. She pressed a number to see what all would come up and then grinned. “Not as intricate as they think,” she muttered her fingers started working overtime on the buttons.

“What are you doing?” he wondered, watching with undivided interest.

“Overriding their password,” she replied smugly.

“You can do that?”

“ _I_ can do just about anything.” As the red light turned green, a quiet buzz could be heard when the door unlocked.

“Open sesame,” he muttered appreciatively.

Closing the box with a snap, she followed him inside. “Do I want to know what these guys are up to?”

“Nothing kosher,” he replied, bee-lining it for the back office, where tall filing cabinets lined the wall.

“Outdated much?” Following him in, she watched as he fingered through the files, reading their titles with furrowed brows. “What are you looking for?”

“Something that’s not in here,” he sighed before his eyes caught the computer. “Wanna flex your fingers a little more?”

Grinning, she crossed to take a seat behind the computer. “Sure, why not?” Turning on the tower, she tapped her fingers against the desk as it loaded. As a box appeared asking for a password, she cracked her knuckles before setting in to work around it. Standing behind her, he leaned over her shoulder to watch her in her element. “Take it all in, Arrow. And be envious!”

Amused, he replied, “As long as you lend me those talents of yours, I’ll gladly take you along for any future gigs.”

Smirking at him, she brought up the labeled computer files for him to look through.

“There,” he said, pointing at the W57 file. “I need what’s in there.”

Nodding, she brought up a second page. “I’ll move them around to a few dummy emails so they can’t trace it. If by some miracle they figure out what happened, they won’t know what to do. By the time you get it, they won’t have any idea where it went…” Fingers flying a mile a minute, she stared at the screen without blinking, absorbed in all things hacking.

“Sometimes,” he drawled, “you scare me with how smart you are.”

She smiled. “Brain to your brawn, baby.”

He smirked.

When she finished, she closed everything up and shut her down. They left the room looking like nobody had ever been. Climbing back to the roof, Chloe approached the edge with less fear and more aggravation. “Can’t use our feet like normal humans, can we?”

Grinning, he tugged her closer by her belt and hooked her to him once more. “Where’s the fun in that?” Before she could reply, they were taking a flying leap off a thirty story building.

Her scream caught in her throat.

“Look!” he told her, laughter clear in his voice.

Trusting him, she very slowly turned her head. Peeking out from the cover of his chest, her eyes took in the surrounding buildings and the lights that flew by in bright blurs of color. With the wind throwing her hair about, she rather felt like she was flying. And looking up at him, it was clear just how exhilarating it all was for him. “You love this,” she said, not a question but a statement of fact.

“I do.” Such reverence.

Something about that calmed her; nothing Oliver did wasn’t well calculated and thought out. As smart as he thought she was, she knew he was just as brilliant. Maybe not with computers, but he wasn’t inept. He caught on quickly and if he ever sat down with her to learn the ins and outs of hacking, she knew he’d pick it up as easy as a bow. But he left that to her and worked with what he knew he could do. And worried as she was, she had to admit, he was in his element here.

His leg hooked onto her window ledge once more, bringing them to a stop before they could hit the building. Balanced on the sill, she slid inside and happily sunk down onto her bed. Climbing in behind her, he grinned as if he’d just experienced true euphoria.

Shaking her head at him, she sighed. “Not _quite_ what I expected when you said you’d be playing hero.”

“Yeah? What’d you think it was about?” he wondered, sitting down next to her.

“I really have no idea… I guess I didn’t think past the green leather and glory of your jewelry heist from Mrs. Danderferth.”

He nodded. “It’s a lot bigger than I thought it was.” Looking over at her, he shrugged. “Star City’s got more going on than just a few back alley dealings.”

She frowned. She loved this city and knowing it was corrupt only angered her. “Can you handle it?”

“By myself?” His brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Last I checked, you had a hacker sidekick,” she told him, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“No…” He shook his head, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Forget sidekick, you’re my _partner_.”

A full fledged grin formed. “Now I like that a lot better.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I thought you might… Somehow I don’t think your personality would put up with being a sidekick for long.”

She laughed, eyes alight with amusement. “So we’re partners in crime then? Fighting the good fight?”

He nodded slowly. “Justice for all,” he proclaimed.

Despite her former reservations, pride flooded her chest. Maybe she was meant to play a bigger part in his heroics than she ever thought. The idea didn’t scare her, if anything, it was _invigorating_.


	10. IX. Of Birthdays and Eiffel Towers

 

 **IX.** _Of Birthdays and Eiffel Towers_

Work was overwhelming; in fact, she was considering a fake illness just to take a day off.

“Sullivan?” her editor shouted, his thick voice startling her out of her thoughts. “What’re ya still doin’ here?”

Her brow furrowed, glancing at the clock. It wasn’t even _noon_ yet, where else would she be? She may have just finished her article but she wanted to get a head start on the next one. If the phone would stop ringing and the printer would quit getting jammed, she might actually get to it. “Uh, working?” she said slowly.

Jim was a big man; robust and proud of it. He had a thick neck that was often puce in color when he got angry, which was his usual mood. With a bulbous nose and a thirty-year addiction to cigarettes, that he was now comically fighting off with Nicorette and the patch, he made a formidable figure. Thinned grey hair that always looked like he was running his hands through it and a day’s growth of whiskers that never seemed to grow, he was the epitome of a harried editor with never a moments rest. Which was why she was confused that he suddenly took an interest in her doing anything _but_ working.

“You were supposed to be outta here an hour ago,” he muttered, glaring at the clock.

If he’d just get the glasses his wife and optometrist had been hounding him about, he wouldn’t have to.

“Did I not get a memo or something?” she asked, shaking her head. “Because last I checked, I didn’t have anywhere to be…”

“Wrong,” a familiar voice called out.

Turning, she cocked her head curiously at Oliver. “What are you doing here? I thought we were celebrating later tonight.”

Oliver grinned. “Change of plans.”

“Really? And you convinced my editor of this… how?” Her eyes thinned suspiciously.

He shrugged. “I’m charming, it has its upsides.” Motioning to her desk, he looked impatient. “Get your stuff together; we’ve got a jet to catch. I might own it, but my pilot is unusually strict.”

“Okay, hold the phone, I’m still lost here!” she exclaimed, eyes wide in confusion.

“I called ahead, you’ve got the rest of the day off. I would’ve been here earlier but I ran into a problem. So get your laptop and coat and we can start this birthday already.”

With a sigh, knowing she wasn’t going to get any more than that, she crossed to her desk, grabbed her coat and bag and then moved toward him. “If you charmed Jim, you’re better than I _thought_ you were.”

Grinning, he looped the strap of her bag over his shoulder and helped her into her jacket. “Your trust in me is overwhelming.”

Arms hooked together, they left the office and after a trip in the elevator where he was being purposely vague about everything, she climbed into the town car he had waiting for them. The ride to the airstrip wasn’t long, but her impatience was at an all time high. “Shouldn’t _I_ be the one whisking you away to anonymous places? It is _your_ birthday,” she reminded.

“Yeah but since you won’t spend any of _my_ money, you’re a little limited on birthday surprises.”

She frowned. “I’ll have you know we were going to have an awesome time tonight. I may not have billions of dollars, but I can throw together a good time.”

Smiling at her, he nodded. “I know. And I wouldn’t expect anything less than spectacular from you. But why not take this day and go somewhere both of us can have an adventure?” Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he hugged her close. “After all, it is _my_ birthday, and I wanted to take you on a spontaneous trip.”

“And this spontaneous trip is taking us… where?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully.

“Nice try.”

Sighing, she glared. “Fine… But if we end up in some crime-fighting cesspool because you wanted to get a little hero on me, I’m _so_ canceling next year’s celebration.”

Hand to his chest with sincerity, he told her, “I promise you, there will be no green leather involved.”

Somewhat mollified, she nodded. “Good.”

The first time she’d taken a trip on the Queen jet, she interrogated the pilot to near tears. She wasn’t getting on any private contraption thousands of feet in the air unless she knew the man at the front knew what he was doing. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Oliver; she just didn’t trust anybody _else_. So when they walked up the stairs to the plane and the pilot gave her a wary look, she wasn’t offended. He wasn’t a bad guy, in fact he was pretty nice and a great pilot. But her intensity wasn’t something many people understood or liked.

“Mr. Queen, Miss. Sullivan,” he greeted.

“Ready to go, Kyle?”

“Yes.” He nodded stiffly. “I was expecting you an hour ago…”

“Business issues.” Oliver half-smiled. “All is cleared up and we’re ready to go.”

“Good. If you’ll take your seats, we’ll be in the air soon.”

With one last look at Chloe, he left for the cockpit.

“He’s never going to forgive me, is he?” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Chuckling under his breath, Oliver sat down in his usual seat. “Can you blame him?”

“Threaten a guy’s grandma _one_ time and suddenly he thinks you’re the devil!”

“It _was_ a little much.”

Chloe snorted. “He was about to take us entirely too high into the sky in an oversized metal bucket and I was supposed to _assume_ he knew what he was doing?” Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah _right_!”

Simply amused, Oliver reached for the bottle of Cristal and poured them each a glass. “To us.”

Knocking hers against his gently, she cocked a brow. “To _you_ , birthday boy.”

He nodded obligingly before tipping the glass back for a drink.

Savoring the taste, she melted into her seat. “So? What’s it like being so old?”

He grinned. “I’m twenty-six; don’t order my burial plot just yet.”

Her brow furrowed. “Well now my gift is _ruined!_ ”

Laughing, he shook his head at her.

“So how long is this spontaneous trip going to last?”

“Depending on how quickly we get there… I figure the rest of the weekend.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “You convinced Jim to give me a three-day weekend?”

“Convinced, bribed, something like that…”

“Why? _How?_ ”

“And reveal my secrets?” He snorted. “Not happening.”

“Fine. Keep them.” Her eyes narrowed. “For now.”

Smirking, he sipped more of his wine.

Halfway through the fight, she got bored. Pacing from one end to the other, she wondered on a long sigh, “How _long_ is this flight?”

Reading through a file of business papers, he glanced up at her. “Little over ten hours.”

“Ten _hours_?” she gasped, shoulders slumping. “Why didn’t we leave _earlier?_ At least then I could’ve slept through most of it.”

Attention back on his graphs, he lifted a brow. “Work.”

Slumping into a seat, she pursed her lips. “What am I supposed to do?”

“There’s a reason I let you bring your laptop, Sunshine,” he mused, grinning.

“Let me?” She cocked her brow at his arrogance. “As if you could _stop_ me.” Digging around in her bag, she set up her laptop on a retractable table and curled her legs beneath her. Maybe she could get that article on the go so by the time she got back to work, it wouldn’t be hounding her.

It was eight-thirty her time but given where they’d just flown over, there was a nine hour difference, making it five-thirty am. Her eyes bulged at the sight outside her window, the lights, the buildings, something akin to overwhelming excitement bubbled in her chest. The plane landed without a hitch and she was still so overwhelmed with the site of Oliver’s sudden vacation to do more than follow him down to the cab waiting for them. With their bags in the trunk – when he managed to pack her clothes for her, she didn’t want to know – they climbed into the backseat. Oliver was closing his briefcase, putting away the last of his work with a snap of the locks.

“Excited?” he asked her, watching her expression with keen interest.

“That doesn’t even _cover_ it,” she murmured, trying to take in everything around her in one look. “Paris, Ollie?!”

He grinned. “I figured you’d like it.”

“It’s too much.” She turned to him suddenly, eyes wide. “This is _your_ birthday!”

“Yeah, and one of the best presents is going to be seeing the look on your face when you experience this city.”

Sometimes, it struck her just how decent a person he was, how unbelievably _un_ selfish he was. For a man who’d grown up in the lap of luxury, surrounded by people who took so much for granted, he didn’t act it. Yes, he could flaunt his money or his background and those dashing looks of his, but when it came down to it, he was just happy to share what he had with someone else. Namely, her.

Reaching over, she hugged him to her tightly. Burying her face in his neck, she sighed. “I can’t even _begin_ to thank you for this, or anything else you’ve brought to my life.”

“It’s just Paris, Chlo.”

“No.” Drawing back, she pressed her hands to his chest affectionately. “You, your friendship, it means _so_ much to me, Oliver. And that I can share these things with you, not just the _big stuff_ but the little things too, I…” She sighed, smiling warmly. “You’re my best friend and even if you were poor and we were sitting in some crappy bar with nothing but those really gross peanuts to eat in celebration, I would _still_ be happy.”

Tugging on her hair, he grinned. “I know… That’s why I do these things, because I can. Because _we_ can. And there’s nobody else I’d rather have it.”

Feeling emotion well in her eyes and tighten her throat, she pursed her lips. “You’re too good to me.”

Chuckling under his breath, he tugged her close, kissing her forehead. “Ditto.”

When they pulled up in front of the Hotel Napoleon, she just about had a heart attack. Eyes wide in astonishment, she shook her head. “No way…” she breathed.

A man came down to open the door for them, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit. “ _Monsieur_ Queen _et Mlle_ Sullivan?”

“Oui,” Oliver replied. “ _Est-ce que notre suite est prête_?” (Is our suite ready?)

“ _Évidemment_.” (Of course.) “ _Si vous me suivrez_ …” (If you will follow me…)

Chloe watched them, eyes moving back and forth as they spoke. “Yeah… I took Spanish in high school.”

“My apologies, _madame_ ,” the Frenchmen excused, his accent quite charming. “Your suite is ready and if you would follow me I will take you there.”

Nodding, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” With a snap of his fingers, a few men came forward to take their bags for them.

Hand on the small of her back, Oliver directed her forward as they walked inside the luxurious hotel. If the outside of the seven story building was breathtaking, the inside would’ve killed her. Eyes the size of saucers, she could hardly take it all in. The chandeliers alone were awe-inspiring, the elegance surrounding her making her feel like she’d just been told she was Queen of England. Needing some semblance of reality, she slid her arm around Oliver’s waist and gripped tight.

“Hello Twilight zone,” she muttered to herself.

The rumble of Oliver’s quiet laughter met her ears.

Climbing into a gold and burgundy elevator, she watched as the numbers rose to the very top floor.

She glanced up at Oliver curiously, who wasn’t the least bit surprised by the grandeur around them.

“Your Imperial suite,” she heard announced and turned to see their guide opening a door via key card for them to enter.

Stepping inside, she felt her knees go weak. It was _huge_ ; and she wasn’t exaggerating. With two bedrooms, a living room and dining room, she hadn’t seen a hotel room this expansive in her life. A large sofa, arm chairs, an LCD TV and minibar filled the living room, an office just to the side of it. While she wasn’t planning on doing any work, if something came up she was definitely equipped for it. A large desk, computer, printer and fax, hooked to wifi, all sat waiting.

The bathroom connected to her bedroom looked bigger than her apartment, marble and mahogany gone awry. A huge bathtub that spoke of bubble baths and the kind of leisure time she desperately needed greeted her eyes. She couldn’t wait to test it out and looking back at Oliver, she just knew he already knew of her intentions. It was five-thirty in the morning and she was going to have one helluva bath.

“Check out the terrace,” he said knowingly.  
  
Brows furrowed, she walked out onto the balcony, where shrubbery and a glass table were ensconced like a small oasis of privacy. The view was something out of her dreams; she could see the Eiffel Tower, _l’Arc de Triomphe_ and _le Sacre Coeur_ without even leaving the hotel. That wasn’t going to stop her, but the fact that she could stand there and see them was so beyond anything she’d ever imagined. “Ollie…” she breathed, blinking hastily as if the rapturous sight before her was due to fade.

  
“It’s real,” he whispered against her ear.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “I just died and went to heaven.”

Hugging her, he nodded. “You’re not alone.”

Just as soon as the room was cleared, she turned around excitedly.

“You’re leaving me for a bubble bath, aren’t you?”

She grinned tellingly.

She soaked until her fingers were prunes and the water was cold, her head leaned back on the edge of the tub, surrounded by candles and bubbles. He brought her in a glass of champagne, setting it on the side while she lounged beneath the cover of white. The sun was peeking in through the windows when she laid down to get a couple hours before they took off to explore the city. Waking just before noon, she hurried downstairs and found the man that had led them to their room.

“ _Bonjour, madame. Votre suite est suffisante?_ ”

Her brows furrowed. “Good morning, uh… I’m sorry; I never got your name.”

“You may call me Jacques,” he said, smiling. “I forgot for a moment that you speak only _Anglais_.”

“And a tiny bit of Spanish,” she reminded, grinning.

“ _Oui_.” He nodded agreeably. “I was just asking if your suite was sufficient.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed happily. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

He tipped his head with proud acknowledgment. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I was hoping to give Oliver a little birthday surprise…” She looked up at him hopefully. “Any chance you’re the guy?”

Amused, he lifted his chin. “I think I can accommodate you.”

“Wonderful… Now, who around here can sing?”

His brow cocked but he didn’t voice any opinion of her unusual request.

And an hour later, she was waving a group of bellboys into their suite and sneaking into Oliver’s bedroom. Lying peacefully on his stomach, with nothing but the sheet tossed over his waist, he looked quite sweet sleeping as he was. But, it had to come to an end.

“ _Maintenant!_ ” she told them, using the only French Jacques had equipped her with to direct the bellboys.

Looking at each other with slight discomfort, they took a deep breath and began singing… _loudly_. “ _Joyeux anniversaire… Joyeux anniversaire... Joyeux anniversaire Oliver… Joyeux anniversaire!_ ”

Oliver startled awake, turning over and staring blearily at the crowd of men singing in his room.

Laughing, Chloe hopped onto his bed next to him. “Again!” she cried.

Shrugging, the bellboys repeated their song, “ _Joyeux anniversaire… Joyeux anniversaire... Joyeux anniversaire Oliver… Joyeux anniversaire!_ ”

Smiling, he shook his head, covering his face as laughter bubbled out of his throat.

“One more time!” Chloe asked, leaning back on his pillows.

While they sang, Oliver turned over to glare at her. “Really?”

Grinning, she shrugged. “Like I could resist!”

Shaking his head, he waved at the men. “ _Merci, merci! C'est assez!_ ” (Thank you, thank you! That is enough!)

“ _Merci!_ ” Chloe cheered happily.

Nodding at them, they filed out of the room and left the suite in peaceful silence.

“ _How_ did you get them to do that?”

Cocking a brow, she volleyed back, “And reveal my secrets? No way!” Rolling off his bed, she ordered, “Now get up and get dressed! After breakfast, we’re going sightseeing!”

“Can’t the birthday boy sleep in?” he groaned, rolling over.

“Technically, your birthday was yesterday… So while you get some of the more embarrassing perks, you’re not getting any of the good ones!” Leaning in the doorway, she stared at his overturned back. “Hurry up, I have a specialty breakfast coming up for you and if you’re not out here in time, I’m eating it!”

Laughing into his pillow, he lifted an arm acquiescingly and after donning a robe, he joined her on the terrace. Sipping fresh orange juice, she sat on the ornate metal chair with her legs tucked beneath her, staring out at the city around them. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.

Taking his seat across from her, he nodded. “And we’ll see every inch of it, I promise.”

Turning toward him, she smiled. “Big words for a guy who wanted to sleep in.”

Yawning, he glared at her playfully.

She motioned to the silver platter in front of him, waiting for him to lift the top. “Go on!”

Amused with her excitement, he revealed his breakfast. “Happy face pancakes?”

She clapped. “Exactly! I got to talk to the chef and everything!” she gushed. “Admittedly, he thought I was getting breakfast for a kid, but whatever!”

Touched, he picked up his fork and reached for the butter and syrup waiting. “It’s great. Thank you.”

Cupping a mug of steaming coffee beneath her chin, she simply grinned. “You’re very welcome.”

After breakfast, they got showered and dressed before making their way out into Paris. Chloe felt an overwhelming pressure in her chest, the sheer excitement of where she was building steadily. With cameras and maps, they set out for the full tourist experience. From museums to fine French cuisine, Chloe got a taste of everything. Walking hand in hand, with him holding the French map and her a camera, they must’ve walked the majority of Paris before sundown. Camera crazy, she got pictures of them doing everything, including him mid-bite of the biggest baguette she’d ever seen. His face was priceless and the breadcrumbs all over his shirt only added to the effect. Standing before the Eiffel Tower and every other monument they could find, they’d taken pictures of each other and together.

Walking back to the hotel, she was still abuzz with happiness, which was why when Jacques gave her the subtle wink that their plan was well in motion, she barely suppressed a squeal.

“Let’s eat downstairs tonight,” she suggested, wiggling to and fro as they stepped onto the elevator.

Nodding agreeably, he perused the many pictures they’d taken on his digital camera. “Only if I get to take a picture of you at dinner to make up for the less than attractive one of me at lunch.”

  
She smirked. “Deal.”

  
After some primping upstairs and dressing in the gold hued dress she’d picked up earlier while they’d been browsing stores, she stepped out of her room to find him waiting for her. All done up in a handsome black suit, he smiled at her. “Absolutely stunning, Sunshine,” he complimented, reaching out to take her hand and twirl her for his perusal.

“Yeah, well, you’re looking pretty dapper yourself.”

Sliding her arm around his, he walked her out of their suite. “I’m not going to be bombarded by singing bellboys tonight, am I?” he asked.

Chuckling over the morning’s memory, she shook her head. “No, no more bellboys in sight.”

Sitting down to dinner in the beautiful dining room, she was so fascinated by her surroundings, she almost forgot what she’d planned. The food was exquisite, she hadn’t expected anything less, but her excitement built as the band set up on stage.

“Are we waiting for dessert?” he wondered, sipping his glass of red wine.

“Something like that,” she replied vaguely.

Before he could ask her anything more, she hushed him with her hand.

Standing up to the mic a beautiful Frenchwoman smiled at the diners. “ _Bonjour, mon nom est Coralie Clement_.” (Hello, my name is Coralie Clement.) “ _C'est un privilège d'être ici ce soir_.” (It is a privilege to be here this evening.)

Chloe couldn’t help the grin forming on her face.

“ _J'ai été demandé par une chère femme de chanter quelque chose de très important!”_ (I was asked by a dear woman to sing something very important!) “So… To Oliver, you are a very lucky man… _Bon anniversaire, mon ami!”_ (Happy birthday, my friend.)

He turned to look at her, his eyes wide with both confusion and appreciation.

The trumpets and piano synchronized, beginning the romantic melody.

  
Standing up, she held out her hand for him to take.

  
Shaking his head at her, he stood, taking her hand in his and walking out to the dance floor. Coralie’s voice reached out with such deep emotion Chloe felt it reverberating through her. She sang _La Vie en Rose_ , a love song, of course. Chloe hadn’t specified her relationship with Oliver and while it might not be what Coralie had assumed, she still thought lyrics fit. The song was French but she’d looked up the English version before giving her nod. And now, as beautiful music filled the ballroom, she knew it was right.

  
Held close in Oliver’s arms, she rested her head against his chest as they stepped into a dance they’d perfected long ago. Twirling beneath his arms when she knew he’d execute it and sliding back into his embrace moments after he swung her out, she didn’t even have to open her eyes to know which way they’d move next. Burying her fingers behind his neck, curled in his hair, she sank into his warmth. Cheek pressed to her temple, he hummed to the song, his deep voice so entrancing against Coralie’s.

As their song came to an end there was cheering to be heard. Jacques stepped up with a bottle of champagne, popping the cork with exuberance, while the chef she’d met earlier carried a birthday cake that would easily feed the entire hotel.

“ _Bon anniversaire!_ ” they cried happily.

Grinning widely, Chloe stepped back, motioning for him to blow out his many candles and clapping as he did so.

Snagging a dollop of icing off the side, he smeared it against her cheek playfully before whispering thank you against her ear.

Lifting up on her tiptoes, she kissed his chin. “You deserve it.”

The rest of the night was spent with cake and dancing, Frenchmen she could hardly understand, and a very content Oliver Queen.

They wouldn’t get back to their suite until well after midnight but when he left for his room, still humming their song, she could only beam with pride.

The rest of their trip was spent seeing all that they could and experiencing every French tradition she could find. From croissants to wine, the Louvre to the Eiffel Tower, they fit in everything they could. And when Sunday came she was sad to leave the city of love, especially the incredibly comfortable bed and oversized tub she’d spent a good portion of her time enjoying. With work put to the backburner, they’d enjoyed the true freedom of having nothing to do but explore. And there was nothing she liked more than seeing and knowing every little thing about a subject. At night, they ate some of the best food imaginable out on the terrace, the lights of the city their background. Both exhausted and rejuvenated, they left the Hotel Napoleon feeling on top of the world. It was good he had his own jet, because with the souvenirs she was taking home, she needed extra luggage and she was pretty sure they would be overcapacity on any regular plane.

She slept most of the plane ride home, curled up across two seats and wrapped tight in the green throw blanket with the Q insignia stitched into it. His birthday had been a three day event of Paris perfection. Compared to what he’d given her, she thought her gift a small reward. While it wasn’t anywhere near as incredible as their spontaneous trip, he’d looked at her present like she’d given him something truly priceless. It was just a scrapbook, one made up of both his childhood and the years before. It was a collection of every picture she’d ever found of his parents, going out of her way to get photos of them when they were much younger and through their relationship, leading into parenting Oliver. The last picture was of them and Oliver at the pier, of him holding a giant green balloon in hand and looking up at them as they grinned happily at the camera. It was bound in leather and inscribed simply with _Queen_ , page after page filled with good memories. Kissing her temple, he’d hugged her tight and whispered, “Thank you.” And she knew then that while they came from different worlds and had very different limitations in life, they were equals in his eyes.

It was no surprise that the best days of her life were always spent with him, and what never ceased to amaze her was that the best days of _his_ life were always spent with _her_. That kind of friendship had to be golden; truly one of a kind. And she wouldn’t do a thing to change it.


	11. X. Of All Access Passes and Excitable Hosts

 

 **X.** _Of All Access Passes and Excitable Hosts_

With a bounce in her step, Chloe made her way up the steps to the huge Queen Industries building housing a few hundred employees and one best friend. As she approached the doors she slid her VIP keycard through the security system, stepping inside as the electronic doors parted open to grant her entry. All stainless steel and marble floors so shiny she could see her face in them, the main floor was pristine.

There were three guards that walked the lower bailey, eagle eyes watching each and every person that came through the doors.

“Hey Louie,” she called out to the one closest to her.

An imposing figure, Louie was just over six and half feet tall and despite being in his early forties still built like a linebacker. Dark skinned with bright green eyes, he would’ve been handsome if not for the perma-scowl he wore due to his work. He took his job very seriously and had been on Oliver’s payroll for a little over half a decade. A football player back in the day who was forced out of the game from a long-lasting injury, he used his strengths now to keep Queen Industries and its employees safe. But as big as he was, Chloe had cracked the tough outside and found the big teddy bear inside.

Waving a brown baggie at him, she lifted a brow. “I made a little stop at that bakery you like so much…”

Grinning, he hurried over to her, losing the rough edge he sported for others. “Blueberry orange?” he asked hopefully.

Drawing out his current favorite muffin, she held it aloft to him. “And I may have picked up an extra chai latte, if you want it,” she offered, smilingly.

“You’re a goddess, baby girl,” he said, taking the goods from her reverently.

She shrugged, smirking smugly. “No arguments here.”

“You goin’ up to see Mr. Queen?” he asked, popping the tab on his drink and inhaling appreciatively.

“Yeah, I figured I’d drag him out for lunch. He’s still in his office, right?” she asked.

“Should be. Haven’t seen him since this morning,” Louie replied, taking a bite of his muffin.

“Good. I’ll see you later, Lou.” With a wave, she turned toward the line of shiny elevators. Waving at the other two guards, Ralph and Peter, she smiled at Trisha behind the help desk before sliding her card through the reader next to the executive elevator and climbed on. Designed specifically for the higher-ups, there was a bench to sit on inside, to which she often rolled her eyes at. As if standing still for all of five minutes was too _trying_. Pressing the button for the top floor, Chloe hummed along to the elevator music, frowning when she knew the tune would be stuck in her head later.

As the doors opened, she stepped into the long and ornate hallway, walking up to the desk where Candice, Oliver’s personal secretary, was busy handling three different phones and surrounded by entirely too much paperwork. Seeing the harried woman working her butt off, she simply motioned toward Oliver’s office wonderingly.

Candice nodded at her and Chloe walked toward the mahogany double doors housing her favorite CEO.

Turning the handle, she peeked inside to see him sitting behind his desk, angled toward the window, his phone against his ear. Otherwise empty, she stepped into his office silently and shut the door with hardly a click. Crossing to take up a seat on his black leather couch, she stacked her legs on the opposite arm and laid back in wait.

Like he always did, he glanced at her, knowing she was there without showing any surprise whatsoever. He smiled in greeting before returning to his call.

“Right, but I spoke to Leonard last week and he said he’d have the graphs writ up for today…” Rubbing his brow, he sighed. “I can’t make him work any faster than he has. If he says they’ll be in then they’re on the way. I’ve never had any problems with him in the past, so—“ He frowned as he was interrupted and Chloe smiled, knowing how much he disliked anybody doing so. “Look, I understand your predicament and I’ve said my piece. My lunch date just walked in so I’ll have to call you back later. Hopefully, by then you’ll have your graphs in hand.” Not waiting for a reply, he hung up and then turned toward her, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“Who says I’m here for lunch?” she asked, cocking a brow. “Maybe I already ate and just wanted to drop by and gloat.”

He snorted, standing up from his chair to drag on his suit jacket. “I will bet my favorite car on the fact that not only did you make reservations for us but that you checked the online menu beforehand and have been waiting all morning to go.”

Frowning at him, she rolled her eyes. “Not _all_ morning… I managed to do a little work in between.”

Chuckling, he held his arm out for her to take. “So where are we going?”

“I’ve been craving pasta, so…” She looked up at him happily.

“The little Italian joint a few blocks over,” he said knowingly.

“Yup!” She practically bounced in place. “Oooh, I can already smell the garlic bread…”

Leaning her head against his arm, she sighed enthusiastically.

“Did you already call for the car or are we walking?” he asked, waving at Candice who was taking a breather from the phones.

“It’s nice out,” Chloe said, shrugging. “Figure the walk will be nice.”

Taking the elevator back down, they crossed the marble floor of the main room. Oliver nodded to Louie as they walked closer. “Chai latte?” he asked, smiling.

“She knows my weakness, sir,” he replied with a content sigh.

Oliver shook his head at her. “You spoil my employees.”

  
“Hey, if something happens he can throw that in somebody’s face.” With wide-eyed innocence, she claimed, “It’s an extra precaution, really!”

  
Laughing, he shook his head. “As if he’d waste it.”

She nodded agreeably. “They do make a good chai latte.”

“Mmm.” His nose wrinkled. “I like it from the Coffee Bean better.”

She snorted. “I still say their lattes are subpar. And you must have some degenerative taste bud disease if you think different.”

The walk to her favorite Italian restaurant wasn’t long, but they didn’t bother hurrying either. Much as she wanted to get inside and have her pasta, the scenery of Star City was something to be enjoyed. While skyscrapers and brick buildings of old took up a good portion of the streets, the greenery of trees and well-kept flower plots were taken great care of. The people they passed smiled politely at them as they went, a few acquaintances said hello, but like usual it was really just the two of them. As long as they’d both lived in Star City, neither of them had gone far out of their way to make friends with many of the other people who lived there. It wasn’t until they met each other that they bothered with anything resembling friendship. And now, with each other, they didn’t see any need to make friends with anybody outside of their exclusive duo. There were acquaintances, of course, but nobody who would be there to join in on Friday’s movie night or Wednesday’s coffee competition. And really, they liked it that way.

The maître d’ greeted them happily, “ _Ciao_ , my friends, _benvenuti!_ ”

“Hey Rocco,” Chloe greeted. “Is our table ready?”

“For you, my _dolce_ , of course!” he exclaimed. “Now if it were anybody else, pfft, I get to it when I get to it, okay?” Waving his arms about with his words, Chloe could only enjoy Rocco’s flamboyant nature. “But I get you the best table in the house, this I _promise_! They not finished yet, I kick them out. Okay?” Not waiting for a reply, he hurried into the dining area, where thankfully the previous users of their usual table were absent. “There we go! Now, I get you a bottle of Chianti, yes?” Again, he was off in a hurry without waiting for them to agree.

They’d hardly lifted their menus before Rocco was back, with wine, glasses, and a giant bowl of caeser salad. Pouring them each a tall glass without even looking, he set the salad down for them to share. “We had extra, you eat it,” he told them. “Jus’ don’t tell my wife, she think I waste food. Crazy woman, but I love her. You know what you want yet?” he talked quickly, his accent mixing in and leaving Chloe blinking at him. She didn’t think she’d ever quite get used to what a character he was. “Few more minutes?” He turned and fled to another table, leaving Chloe and Oliver stunned silent once more.

“You know, I’ve never met his wife… You think she ever gets a word in edge-wise?” Oliver wondered curiously.

Chloe laughed. “I don’t think she’d be able to handle him if she didn’t.”

Smiling, he flipped the menu over in his hands. “What are you thinking of?”

“I _wanted_ pasta…” She chewed her lip. “But now I’m looking at their pizza.”

He chuckled under his breath.

“Hey,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t laugh at my indecision, they’ve got so much good food here it’s hard to pick.”

“You spent the morning wanting pasta and _now_ you’re changing your mind?”

She pouted. “You’re right! I should just get the pasta… and order pizza for dinner tonight.”

Shaking his head at her, he perused the menu and had just decided when Rocco reappeared, looking just as excited as ever.

“I’ll have the Pasta Milano,” Chloe said, holding her menu up for him to take.

“No appetizers?” He looked at her with the same concern a father might. “You need more meat on your bones, _dolce_ , you’re so tiny my wife could _throw_ you…”

Brows furrowed, she half-smiled. “Here’s hoping she won’t…” she replied, holding her fingers up and crossing them.

“I get you a bowl of bruschetta, you’ll like it, I promise,” he decided before turning to Oliver.

“Sicilian pizza,” he said, offering his menu over. “ _Grazie_.”

“Fantastic!” With a skip in his step, Rocco headed to the kitchen.

Taking her fork up, Chloe dug into their caeser salad. “How’s work going?”

“Slowly,” Oliver replied, leaning his elbows on the table while he too tried their salad. “When one problem gets fixed, there’s another waiting.”

“Kind of like everything else,” she said, sipping her wine with lifted brows. “You take out one bad guy and three more show up.”

He sighed. “I can handle them; it’s the deskwork that’s getting to me.”

Chuckling, she shook her head at him. “You just like the leather and gadgets.”

His lips curled with a smirk. “They’re fun.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” she said, wrinkling her nose.  


“I can have that suit made up for you any time,” he suggested, grinning. “Hot pink alligator skin?”

She laughed so abruptly she nearly snorted wine in his direction.

Covering her mouth, she glared at him. “I _dare_ you!”

He cocked a brow, tipping his head challengingly. “Give me your measurements and it’ll be on your desk by the end of the week.”

Laughing, she waved her fork at him threateningly. “Don’t!”

“Fine… But I’ll get you in one yet…”

She snickered. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Rocco interrupted to bring them their bruschetta, waiting for her to try it out and then clapped his hands jubilantly when she admitted it was good. Leaving them in peace, he went on to another table.

“We keep coming here and you won’t fit whatever outfit I _do_ get you.”

Eyes wide, she gasped comically at him. “Thin thread, Oliver.”

He laughed. “It’s not my fault Rocco’s trying to fatten you up.”

Chuckling, she stuffed her mouth with salad pointedly.

While they couldn’t have lunch every day, she made it a priority to steal him away from the office at least once a week. He was a busy man and though she usually ran it past his secretary before showing up, there were days when leaving the office wasn’t possible. Usually he’d send out for Chinese and they’d eat at his desk while he simultaneously traded banter with her and worked on whatever was at the top of the pile. But getting him out and into a restaurant was always better; she could see as he relaxed and shook off the strain that went with his business. And that was all she wanted for him, to find an outlet when things got to be too much. While he didn’t always admit it, he was taking on a lot and he needed to share the load.

“How’s the paper?” he asked her, looking up from where she was currently moving in on his half of their salad.

“Busy,” she sighed. “Which reminds me, Maggie would desperately like an interview with you if you can spare the time. I may not wanna write up your current bio but she’d willingly tear her own hair out if it meant you’d say yes.”

He lifted a brow, but nodded. “Sure. I’ll see when I have some free time and she can come by then. No hair-tearing needed.”

“Good, maybe now she’ll stop sending me puppy-dog looks whenever I walk past her to the coffee machine.”

Oliver snickered. “Well as long as I’m making _your_ life easier.”

Grinning, she lifted a shoulder. “Much appreciated.”

Lighthearted conversation was meant for lunch, nothing so in-depth that it would only darken his mood. Their spontaneous lunches were specifically for relaxation and good food, so she kept to easy topics. And really, awing over her pasta was easy. There was a reason she’d been drooling over its memory all morning. Halfway through, they traded entrees and she got her pizza too. Seeing Oliver enjoy her pasta, she grinned. “Told you it was worth it.”

“Eat your pizza, Sunshine,” he said, drawing the bowl close as if he suspected she might want it back.

Chuckling, she rolled her eyes at his antics.

Passing on dessert, they finished with one more glass of Chianti before Oliver dropped a couple Benjamin’s on the bill, well over what was owed but he always over-tipped. Waving goodbye to the appreciative Rocco, they started back for Queen Industries with full stomachs and good moods. It was days like this, that started off hectic and would no doubt end the same, where she liked to get in a midday moment for them to separate from their problems and get away.

A few years ago, she would’ve ignored lunch entirely and worked until she was exhausted. She wondered just how much different her life would’ve been had he not been in it. Before him, she only had herself to think about and the only worrying she did was whether or not her next article would be published or the guy she was tailing would notice her before she got her scoop. But with Oliver in her life, she found she wanted to make sure he was always taken care of. If he was upset she wanted to cheer him up, and if he was happy she wanted to be a part of it. She wondered if that’s what friendship was; if it meant looking out for another before one’s self and making everything present and future something great for them. Of knowing what they’d want before they did and making sure they had it. Of doing whatever was in reach so long as it meant they were cared for and loved.

“What are you thinking about?” he wondered, tugging her hair affectionately.

She looked up at him. “How different our lives would be if we’d never met.”

He frowned. “No Chloe Sullivan in my life…” He shuddered dramatically. “Who would eat half my bagel each morning or threaten to reveal non-existent personal problems to the public?” He shook his head mockingly. “Life just wouldn’t be the same.”

Elbowing his side, she glared at him, suppressing her smile. “Ha, ha.”

Hugging her to him, he grinned. “Why think about it? That’s not our life. You successfully guarded by chastity belt that night and ever since,” he joked.

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. “Hey, if you want to date, I’m not stopping you.”

He shrugged carelessly. “I’m busy enough as it is.”

“See, now, if you were really hard up for a little nookie you’d have a different outlook… Just be happy I _didn’t_ let the world know about your ED,” she reminded, smirking.

As they approached the front doors of his building, she swiped her card for him to go inside. The fact that she had an all access keycard never ceased to amuse her; there were so many businesses that would rather swallow their own heads than hand over a backstage pass to her. The secrets, the files, the undercover work they did, it would all be at her disposal and giving someone like her, whose curiosity was dangerously natural, would be like career suicide. Oliver, however, never looked at it that way. He trusted her and letting her into every facet of his life was just how their friendship worked. Not that his associates would agree, but what they couldn’t stop she very much enjoyed.

Holding the door open, he cocked a brow questioningly. “You heading back to the Gazette?”

“Unlike _some_ people,” she drawled, “I actually have an allotted lunch… And I’m already late.”

“’Kay.” Leaning over, he kissed her cheek goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

Nodding, she walked backwards toward the stairs. “I’ll bring my Warrior Pose,” she assured, winking.

Grinning, he waved at her before turning toward the elevator.

Knowing Jim was going to be shouting about just how late she was she decided to stop by his favorite donut shop and get him something to take the edge off his rancor. This wasn’t the first time her and Oliver’s lunch dates had run late and she was well aware of how to smooth things over with her boss. Happy, even knowing she was about to go back to the bustling zoo that made up Star City Gazette, she was just glad there’d been a little peace in between.


	12. XI. Of Anniversaries and Saying Goodbye

**XI.** _Of Anniversaries and Saying Goodbye_

There was no day worse than today. _October 14 th_ – the anniversary of his parent’s deaths. This was the one day out of the year that he cut ties with everything; Queen Industries was not allowed to call, everybody he employed at the house was to take the day off, and he shut himself away, not to be disturbed. Of course, she never took those rules to heart. And when she showed up, he expected it.

The photo album she’d given him for his birthday sat open on the bed, one of many family pictures staring up at him mockingly. It felt like yesterday and yet it was a lifetime ago. Just a kid, he’d lost them, and sometimes he couldn’t remember the sound of their voices, of their laughter. There were so many moments in his life that he wished they’d been there to share in. Heartbreak he could’ve used a hug for and triumphs he needed that pat on the back his father had always offered. Robert and Laura Queen had been wonderful people, caring parents, and their son missed them every day since they died.

Chloe entered his room quietly, crossing the floor without a sound. A glass of brandy sat on the end-table; one of many. He hadn’t gotten dressed or showered and he didn’t know what time it was, but he gathered it was getting late given the sun was falling. She sat down on the bed next to him, leaned against the headboard and still didn’t say a word. For the last two and a half years, she’d always been there. From day one, she’d been a strong presence in his life and she’d never waned in that position. Where once he hadn’t thought there was a person alive who could meet his confidence head on, he now knew how wrong he was. She was his match, the pillar to lean on and the hand to help him up. Just like she provided the happiness in his life, she was there to share in the pain.

He slumped down where he sat, resting his head on her lap. Stroking his hair, she held onto him, waiting.

“You think they’re proud of me?” he wondered, feeling like a child asking for approval.

Fingers tenderly running across his temple, she nodded. “Of course they are. What’s not to be proud of?”

He snorted. “Years thirteen through twenty-four?”

“We all do things we regret, Oliver. We make mistakes, we do what we think is okay, and then later, when clarity hits, we realize how dumb we were.” She shrugged. “We can’t live our lives acting only the way others would’ve expected us to. If we don’t screw up, we don’t learn.”

He frowned. “Did I have to screw up so much?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t you wouldn’t be the man you are now… You’re the guy who fights for the little people; flying threw the skies on a wire, moving from place to place to bring justice to those who can’t help themselves.” She sighed softly, tugging his earlobe affectionately. “If your parents are half as incredible as you’ve told me they are, then I have no doubt they’re more proud of you than you can even imagine.” Tapping his chin to get him to look at her, she smiled softly. “I know I am.”

Staring up at her, he found some of his self-pity evaporated. “Not everybody sees me like you do though.”

“Yeah, well, everybody else isn’t half as awesome as I am. How can you expect them to know what I know?” She rolled her eyes playfully. “I know you, the _real_ you, and if anybody has anything bad to say about you, I’ll wield my tazer until they learn their lesson.”

He cracked a smile. “My hero.”

Her face softened. “Your partner.”

Taking her hand, he squeezed it, holding on as all fell silent once more. She let him; didn’t interrupt while he thought about his parents and what expectations they might’ve had. She let him seriously consider the truth behind the man, and what conclusions his parents would’ve come to now. Yes, he made some mistakes. He’d been a bully in prep school, something he regretted to this day, and he’d used people and women like they were disposable, easily replaced. Tess Mercer was one of those people and what he did to her was something he still felt ill over. It what the fact that he recognized these faults and worked to change them, to make himself a better person, that reminded him he _wasn’t_ that guy anymore.

Maybe he was better, maybe he did give something back to the community, maybe he _was_ somebody his parents could take pride in. And if not, he would be. Eventually. As long as he continued on the path he was going, he vowed he’d be worthy of their pride. He hadn’t always taken an interest in making the world a better place, but he was now. It was high on his list of priorities; between charities and personally going out to fight the crime that littered his city, he was doing his best. It wasn’t always easy; apparently being a hero took a lot more than he’d thought. While his body was taking on a whole new visage, fully able to battle whatever came his way, there were still obstacles to overcome. But with Chloe’s help, things were changing and evolving, and eventually, he hoped to be the hero he wanted to be.

“You hungry?” she asked, drawing his attention back to her.

As if in response to her question, his stomach grumbled loudly.

“Your menu’s consisted of alcohol since you woke up, hasn’t it?” she asked, but there was no censure in her voice.

He nodded; there was no point in lying.

Patting his shoulder, she slid out from beneath him. “Come on. We can still play hermit, but the least you can do is have something to eat. I’m cooking!”

He followed her downstairs, his body achy from not being used most of the day. He hadn’t even stepped outside to do his usual yoga routine with her, instead wallowing in misery, safe in his bedroom.

She cooked them each up a ham, cheese and mushroom omelet and then poured a tall mug of coffee to help him out of the dull fuzz of the alcohol he’d immersed himself in.

It felt good to get something on his stomach and while he didn’t want to acknowledge his own lack of motivation, he appreciated how she always swooped in to pick up the pieces. They sat in silence for awhile, side by side at the counter island. He didn’t realize just how hungry he was until he’d finished his omelet and was eyeing hers. With a smile, she pushed her plate toward him.

“You sure?”

She cocked a brow. “Just eat it.”

Not to disappoint, he dug in with fervor.

Sipping her coffee, she rested her chin on her palm, deep in concentration.

Finishing off the last of the food, he piled the plates to the side and glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Do you ever… miss your mom?” he wondered.

She looked over at him, her nose wrinkling at the subject. “I do and I don’t.”

His brow furrowed wonderingly.

“It’s like… I miss her but I don’t _want_ to…” She frowned. “She left and I want to be mad at her for it… But at the same time, there are days that I just wish she’d come back and give me some incredible excuse so I could brush it under the carpet and just… _have her back_.” Chewing her lip, she shrugged. “My dad did a good job though, considering. I mean, yeah, he wasn’t always there but at least he tried to be.”

“Do you really think you could forgive her?”

She shook her head slowly. “I dunno… She missed out on so much, I can’t help feeling like if she wanted to be here, she would.” Looking up at him, she sighed. “When you love someone, really love them, what could possibly make you leave them?”

He frowned, shrugging slightly. “Fear?”

Her brows furrowed. “Of what?”

“Of not being enough…” He stared hard at the counter. “I loved Tess but I ruined it, on purpose… I didn’t feel like I deserved her and the only way I thought I could make her see it was to prove I wasn’t good enough…”

She nodded to herself. “If she gave you another chance, now, do you think you’d be good enough?”

He looked over at her, a somewhat sad smile on his face. “She’d never give me another chance, and she shouldn’t… Besides, that ship sailed a long time ago. Despite everything, she loved _that_ man… and I’m not him anymore.”

Slowly, she grinned. “If _you_ can see that, what makes you think your parents wouldn’t?”

Pursing his lips, he shook his head. “Have I told you before you’re entirely too smart for your own good?”

Resting her head on his shoulder, she laughed lightly. “It was implied.”

Leaning his head against hers, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Why do you put up with me?”

“Same reason you put up with me?”

His brows furrowed mockingly. “I’m so small it’s like having your own personal pixie?”

Laughing, she slapped his chest, drawing away to glare at him. “Not funny!”

He smirked. “Kinda funny.”

Rolling her eyes, she hopped off the stool, taking the dishes into the kitchen.

“Will you come with me tonight?” he asked her abruptly.

She paused, looking over at him. Every night of the anniversary, he went to their graves, to spill his heart or share his life, whatever came to mind. And it was something she’d never encroached on; as much as she tried to get him out of his funk, she also understood the importance of the situation. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I want you to.”

“Okay.” Flipping on the tap to fill the sink, she half-smiled. “I’m in.”

A few hours later, they were doing just that.

It was dark in the cemetery but he hardly needed a flashlight to know where he was going. He’d walked the same path since he was nine years old, often coming to see them when he’d had a particularly hard time and needed to be reminded of their presence in his life. Chloe, however, had no idea where she was going, and standing in a very dark graveyard at night wasn’t exactly fun.

“Don’t be offended,” she murmured, “But this place is creepy.”

He smiled, reaching back to take her hand before she tripped over a headstone. “You get used to it.”

“Yeah…” Looking around, she wasn’t quite convinced. “I’ll take your word on that.”

Their plots were on a hill, separate from the rest. When he came to see them some mornings it looked like the sun was peeking out behind their graves, highlighting them ethereally. Black marble and gold writing marked their place and he found his feet slowed as he got closer.

“You want me to hang back?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

He shook his head, his jaw clenching.

As they crested the hill, he paused, the weight of it all sitting heavy on his shoulders.

She looked up at him, seeing his indecision, and like the best friend she was, she got the ball rolling. “Hi… I’m Chloe…” she greeted, as if they were there, as if they could _hear_ her. “Given how long I’ve known your son, I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by earlier…”

He stared at her, appreciation welling in his chest.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve raised an incredible son…” Chewing her lip, she turned her eyes upward, “In fact, someone once told me that it was through those we cared about most that our characters were made. So I can only assume that given how much he loves you, it’s through you and because of you that he’s the person I know… So thank you. He’s the best friend and most thoughtful, caring person I’ve _ever_ known…”

Oliver smiled, blinking as his eyes burned. “She exaggerates but her heart was in the right place.”

Rolling her eyes at him, she pursed her lips. “We were having a private conversation, _thank you_.”

“My apologies,” he offered, lifting a brow. “Anything more you wanted to say? You haven’t yet told them just how incredibly handsome I am. I definitely think you should thank them for that.”

Glairing, she shook her head. “From what I know of your parents, I can only assume that ego comes from a far back relative.”

He laughed, drawing her close for a hug. “And now they know how I managed to survive this long.”

Her brow furrowed. “Overwhelming arrogance?”

He snorted. “I was going to say you, but that works too.”

Squeezing his waist, she sighed. “You’re your own man, Oliver. I just happened to be there when you grew into him.”

“You helped…” Resting his cheek against her hair, he breathed her in. “And I’m sure if they could, they’d be thanking you for that.”

“I don’t need thanks… Just as long as I’ve got you and your friendship, I’m content.”

Half-smiling, he looked down at his parent’s silent graves. He may not have them and he would always miss that, but having her and what their friendship entailed, he could honestly say he was more than content. He was privileged. And while he might not say it aloud, he bid goodbye to his parents and the ritual he’d begun so many years ago, of wallowing and regretting and drinking until the hurt stopped. He loved them, they knew that, and he knew that what they would want most for him was closure. With Chloe there to help him, he knew he’d find it.


	13. XII. Of Holiday Traditions and Family Gatherings

 

 **XII.** _Of Holiday Traditions and Family Gatherings_

Chloe hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. “Well… there goes my family plans for Christmas,” she muttered unenthusiastically.

“Lois is busy?” he asked, lowering his newspaper.

Frowning, she nodded. “Apparently The Inquisitor has no qualms with employing people through this oh-so-cheerful holiday.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make it as best we can,” he said, smiling. “Why don’t we pick up a tree today?”

Brightening some, she thought the idea over. “A big one?”

He grinned. “As big as you want… I’m pretty sure the ceilings can take it,” he said, looking up for emphasis.

Oliver’s house was _made_ for Christmas. With tall ceilings and spacious rooms, the last two Christmas’ she’d worked her butt off to decorate every inch. Of course, to take on such a mammoth job she’d needed reinforcements, which was why Joseph, Eleanor and a few others had been called in to hang mistletoe and garland wherever she saw fit. Housing a few Christmas parties in his day, Oliver was all for it, agreeing that she gave his house a homier feel to it. And there was nothing she loved more than the joy she got from sharing her holiday traditions with him.

“Can we listen to Christmas carols on the ride over?” she hoped, brows lifting expectantly.

He frowned. “You brought your chipmunk CD, didn’t you?”

Her smirk said it all.

Not long later, they were driving along to Alvin and the Chipmunks’ The Christmas Song, to which she very happily sang along with, _loudly_.

Driving through the snow packed roads, he smiled to himself at her enthusiasm.

“Meee… I waaant… a hoooola-hoooop!” she sang, laughingly.

Wrapped in her bright red coat, she rocked side-to-side, humming under her breath.

Outside them, people were shoveling snow from their drives, kids were building snowmen, and Christmas lights were being hung around roofs. Between the time of his parent’s death and her coming into his life, he couldn’t remember what he really did around this time. He hadn’t taken much interest in the holiday season. There was so much family togetherness that he often avoided it. In fact, he thought he might’ve purposely avoiding everything consisting of Christmas. When it snowed, he left for somewhere warmer, when there were carolers, he went elsewhere, and the only gifts he gave out were to his employees. But in the last few years, she hadn’t let him get out of it. Dividing her time between him and Lois, she’d made sure to keep them both bountiful in Christmas cheer.

When they turned into the tree lot, she was nearly bouncing in her seat. Hurriedly stuffing her hands in her gloves, she climbed out of the car and skipped toward the many fir and pine trees leaning against the set up fences. There were a few families and couples walking about, looking from tree to tree to find their favorite. “Hurry up!” she called back to him, eyes wide as she took in the selection.

Laughing under his breath, he caught up to her, crossing his hands behind his back and waiting for her to choose.

“What about this one?” she asked, chewing her lip as she pointed to a nine foot pine a little on the thin side.

He cocked a brow. “Do you want an honest opinion?”

Pursing her lips at him, she walked past him to investigate the others. “How tall are your ceilings again?” she wondered.

“Tall enough,” he mused, his eyes taking in the height of most of the trees they were selling. It wouldn’t be a hard fit; it’d be dragging the monstrosity inside that would be the hassle. And given her love of big trees he knew he’d be pulling the ladder out too.

“We could go Charlie Brown this year,” she suggested, glancing at the near bare and sad looking trees close to the open gates.

“Let’s not,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Besides, with all the decorating you’re going to do, it’s going to have to be strong enough to hold everything.”

Her eyes lit up as she remembered the boxes upon _boxes_ of ornaments stored at his house. Between her own decorations and those he’d kept of his parents, they could do up _two_ of his houses. Then again, she managed to fit in as much of it as humanly possible and that was with the extras she always seemed to need every Christmas.

“Any specific colors this year?”

  
“We had blue and silver last year, right?” she murmured thoughtfully.

  
Yes, and it had been one of the most attractive displays he’d ever seen. There was something about coming home at Christmas and seeing such brightly designed rooms that managed to uplift him, no matter how bad a day he’d had.

“We could go gold and green.” Reaching out, she ran her hand along a tree wonderingly. “Maybe that’s too much green though…”

He smirked. “There can never be too much green, Sunshine.”

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged, kicking up snow as she continued to make her way through the maze of trees.

“Can I help you folks?” an older man asked kindly. Dressed as one of the men running the place, he stared at them wonderingly. His nose was red from the cold and the fake white beard he wore for the kids only made it stand out more. Oliver gave Chloe a knowing look when she smiled; no doubt she had a Rudolph joke running through her mind. She pursed her lips to tell him she wouldn’t say it aloud.

“What’s your tallest, thickest tree?”

He grinned toothily before nodding his head and leading them toward _the mammoth_ of all Christmas trees. Chloe lit up like a light bulb as soon as she saw it, which was when he knew he’d be fighting to get it inside the next few hours. He was already wondering if Joseph was home and willing to help him lug it in.

“This here is our pride and joy…” the man told them wistfully. “Biggest tree we’ve ever grown ‘round here…”

Oliver nodded, already pulling out his wallet. “We’ll take it.”

Chloe looked up at him, brows lifting. “You don’t want to look around anymore?”

He stared at her knowingly. “Do you want it?”

Biting her lip, she nodded.

“Then we’ll take it.”

Stroking his fake beard, the man stared at them a moment. “She’s not cheap…”

He rolled his eyes. “Can you load it on top of the car?” he asked, motioning back to the BMW in the drive.

The man’s eyes bulged. “Uh, you know… Why don’t I have one of the boys follow you on home? His truck’ll hold it and then he can help you get it inside.”

Oliver grinned. “It’d be appreciated.”

“I’ll go write up your bill then.”

Left alone with their new tree, Chloe looked up at him appreciatively. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’ll be even more beautiful when you get it dressed.”

“We have to let it sit overnight, so the limbs can fall,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the idea of waiting.

“There’s still the rest of the house, Chloe,” he assured, smiling.

“You’ll help?” she wondered, looking up at him with pink cheeks and a hopeful expression.

“Do we have to put up that weird stitched Santa you found in the boxes?” He frowned. “That thing scared me as a kid.”

She snorted. “Yeah, Kris Kringle’s _real_ scary… Time to get over your fears, Big Green.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “There’s a difference between an old fear and still finding something unusually creepy… Plus, it’s just plain ugly.”

Shrugging, she hooked her arm with his. “It’s cute… In an old-fashioned, weird kind of way…”

“I think his beard is made of real hair…” He frowned, disturbed. “That’s not cute, it’s just weird.”

She laughed. “Okay, okay, no stitched Santa this year… But that means I have to find a less scary Santa somewhere!”

He sighed. “We’re going decoration shopping again, aren’t we?”

  
She grinned.

  
“Fine… But I’m picking the music this time!”

Narrowing her eyes playfully, she told him, “Deep down, you love Alvin!”

Chuckling under his breath, he didn’t get a chance to argue before he was paying for their new tree and leading it back to the manor. It wasn’t nearly as hard to get inside as he’d thought; not with the help of the delivery guy. It was after the tree was set up that things got a little uncomfortable.

“So…” Turning, the young man looked at Chloe interestedly. Tall, with wide shoulders and a little on the thin side, he smirked like Christmas had just come early. “We were never introduced.” He held a hand out to her. “I’m Jeff.”

Shaking his hand, she smiled politely. “Chloe.”

Looking around, he asked, “So you live here? This place is huge.”

“No,” she said, lifting a knowing brow. “ _He_ lives here, I just drop by once and awhile to interrupt his life.”

“Really?” Looking her up and down, none-too-subtly, he asked, “You got any plans this weekend?”

Looking from him to Oliver, she chortled. “Really?”

“I may not have a mansion, but I can definitely make it worth your while,” he said suggestively.

“That’s… Nope, can’t say anything without offending you.” She grinned sarcastically. “All right, thanks for the tree… Have a nice drive back.” Impatiently, she motioned him toward the door.

“You sure?” he said, backing up with an arrogant swagger.

Hiding his amusement, Oliver simply watched as Chloe blinked at the boy, not quite sure how to react to his come on. “Maybe when you get out of high school,” she said scathingly.

“Your loss,” he said before leaving the house.

As the door closed, Oliver’s laughter broke through.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“No, no, don’t let me get in your way…” He held his hands up in surrender. “That was one very special thirteen year old out there! Don’t let him get away!”

“Given he can drive, he has to be at least sixteen…” She frowned. “Right?”

He only laughed harder.

“Hey!” she cried, chuckling. “This is only the beginning… Just you wait; I’ll have my own fan club too!”

“Made up of junior high kids,” he mocked, grinning.

Rolling her eyes, she pointed her finger threateningly. “Keep laughing and I’m putting Creepy Santa up!”

Frowning, he pouted. “You promised!”

“Next time you should get it in writing,” she warned, walking toward the door. “Now come on, I want some more decorations to clog your walls with.” Waving his keys in the air, she cheered, “And I’m driving.”

Touching his jeans pocket, his brows furrowed. “How did you _get_ those?”

Laughing, she called back, “I have my ways!”

Chasing her outside, he caught her around the waist before she could reach the car. Twirling her about in the air, he tried to wrangle the keys from her with his free arm.

Holding them high above their heads, she laughed. “Just give up!”

Using the car, he pressed her back against it, pinning her with his body and then using his much longer arms to get the keys out from her uselessly straining arms.

“Cheater!” she cried.

Chuckling, he drew away from her, catching her before she hit the ground. “I’ll let you drive on the way back… If you promise to never put the Creepy Santa up again.”

Biting her lip, she stared at him contemplatively. “Okay… Fine! _Baby_ ,” she muttered under her breath.

Motioning for her to get in already, he only smiled as she stuck her tongue out at him.

When Christmas Eve arrived, the house was in its glory. Every inch she could reach, and those she could get Oliver to climb the ladder for, were dressed in every decoration under the sun. From Santa’s to reindeer, mangers to mistletoe, the entire house had come together to get it all done. Whenever she stepped inside, the holiday season spun warm in her chest. The tree was her favorite, wrapped in green and gold, it shone beautifully in the center of his living room. Beneath it were presents of all shapes and sizes, piled high for her, Oliver and the staff. Seeing as Oliver let them all leave earlier than she expected, she didn’t get a chance to make sure they took their gifts with them, meaning they wouldn’t be opened until they returned after New Year’s. And Lois’ stack of gifts were sitting safely behind the tree until Chloe was sure they’d get to her cousin outside of the delivery crisis the mail was having lately.

“Hey,” Oliver called out, stepping into the living room to find her admiring her handiwork for the _nth_ time. “You’re not dressed,” he said, looking down at her outfit.

Looking down, she lifted a brow. “I’m not _naked_ ,” she said, confused.

“You didn’t get it?”

“Get what?”

“The package?”

She frowned. “What have I told you about the mail? When it’s Christmas, things take at least three times as long to get anywhere.”

His lips pursed. “That was where my two hundred dollar bribe was supposed to push things along.”

  
“Your two-hundred-dollar _what_?” She shook her head at him. “Why would you _do_ that?”

  
He grinned. “Inspiration?”

Sighing, she crossed her arms atop her chest. “What was in it?”

“Your costume.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I told you I didn’t want one.”

  
He shook his head. “No, not that one.”

  
She cocked her head. “We’ve discussed my wearing more than one costume?”

“Well, there was that time we discussed your being a sexy female Green Arrow for Halloween…”

Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes. “And I told you then; your idea was less Green Arrow and more dominatrix!”

He grinned unapologetically. “In any case, the costume wasn’t either of those.”

“Well then what was—“

The doorbell rang cheerily and he motioned for her to wait as he went to answer it.

Standing in the heavily falling snow, the FedEx man jumped on spot to take the chill off. “Chloe Sullivan?” he asked abruptly.

  
Oliver glared. “Do I _look_ like a—“

  
“Sign here,” he interrupted, stuffing the clipboard into Oliver’s hands.

Sighing, Oliver did so, accepting the package and waving a sarcastic thank you after the man who hurried back to his truck.

“I thought you sent it to _me_ ,” Chloe muttered as he walked back inside.

“I did… They screwed up, brought it to the received address.” He shrugged. “It’s here now, so open it.”

Both happy and wary to be opening an early present, she took the box from him an unraveled it, using her teeth to get through the tape rather than wait for him to get something to cut it. Rolling his eyes at her impatience, he simply waited for her to get it open. And when she did, her brows furrowed, tugging out the green velvet fabric with a frown. Finding a pair of green slippers with bells on top, she looked up at him. “Okay, I give… What is it?”

Smirking, he grabbed up the hat from the bottom and fit it snugly on her head. “Your elf costume.”

Her expression blanked. “My _what?_ ”

“For tonight, at the hospital. You’ll be the helpful elf and I’ll be Santa.”

Fully aware that they were heading to the hospital later to hand out gifts, she hadn’t expected to wear anything but regular clothes. “Hate to break it to ya, Queen, but you’re gonna have to eat a few more cookies and down a whole lot milk if you expect to make up Santa’s gut by tonight.”

He grinned. “That’s what _my_ costume is for.”

Lifting a brow, she smirked. “Oh I _have_ to see this!”

Checking the time, he shrugged. “We should get going soon anyway. Go get dressed and I’ll meet you back down here.”

Scowling at her outfit, she sighed. “Fine… But this is for the sick kids…” On her way to the bathroom, she stopped suddenly and turned toward him, a finger pointed warningly. “No pictures!”

Grinning, he ran upstairs to get into his outfit.

A half hour later, they were walking down the hall dressed as old Saint Nick and his cheerful elf Chloe. A red satin bag held the gifts and though she wasn’t exactly happy she was a little green elf, hearing the laughter wafting down the halls cheered her up. The last couple of years, she and Oliver had often come to see the kids and give them a little something to make the holiday less oppressive. The children’s ward of Star City General was filled with both happy and sad souls; the idea of them not being able to be at home with their friends and families made her want to help. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Stuffed to capacity, Oliver made a hefty figure next to her, and if possible made her look even tinier by comparison.

The nurses waved and smiled appreciatively as they walked past.

“Every time I move, I jingle,” she whispered to him, glancing at her feet.

“It’s cute.”

She glared witheringly at him and even behind his beard of thick white curls, she knew he was smiling.

Opening the door to the room, they were met with hushed excitement.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Oliver called out, stepping inside to show off his bright red and white outfit, equipped with big black boots and yellow buckles.

Tucking her arms behind her, Chloe walked next to him with a warm smile for the kids.

“It’s _Santa!_ ” a little girl whispered in awe.

“Why you must be Annabelle,” Oliver said to her, winking. Having read their rap sheets before coming, he’d prepared for meeting them.

“He knows my name!” she sighed, eyes wide with sweet innocence.

“Dear elf,” Oliver said, glancing back at Chloe, “Sweet Annabelle’s on the nice list, isn’t she?”

Wrinkling her nose at her friend, she smiled. “Yes, she is. In fact, I think we have a present in here _just_ for her!”

Digging deep into the velvet bag, Chloe drew out the one marked with the little girl’s named and then handed it to Oliver, who gave it to an excitedly bouncing Annabelle.

“Is it what I think it is?” she wondered hopefully, playing with the bow on top.

“Open it and see,” Oliver said gently.

“What about me?” a young boy wondered. “Am I on the nice list?”

Chloe smiled at him. “What do you think, Santa?”

“Of course he is… All of them are!”

Their cheers were deafening.

Chloe felt tears prick her eyes as they handed out gifts and chatted with the little kids. One after another, they all wanted to sit on Oliver’s lap and tell them about what else they wanted and what they wanted him to get their parents. Already, she knew he was making a list in his head, and checking it twice. No doubt that come tomorrow, each and every one of these kid’s parents would have exactly what their children wanted for them. Except one.

Joanna Elizabeth Murphy asked for one thing, even giving back her original gift. “I wanna go home and I don’t wanna be sick anymore…” Playing with his beard, she asked, “Can you do that?”

Oliver looked at Chloe and the heartbreak in his eyes only made her want to hold him.

“Keep your gift, Joanna… For right now, that’s all I can promise.”

“But at midnight, that’s when your magic, isn’t it?” she asked hopefully, staring up at him with big blue eyes. “And then you can make me all better!”

One of the nurses tried to intervene but Oliver waved a hand.

“Why don’t I promise you that one of my very good friends will do everything he can to help you get better. Okay?”

She bowed her head. “Is he really special?”

Chloe grinned. “ _Very_ special!”

Oliver smiled at her and then smoothed Annabelle’s hair down. “Go open your gift now, okay?”

Nodding, she hopped down from his lap.

When she far enough away, the nurse came closer. “Her chances aren’t very good… The cancer has spread.”

Oliver nodded stoically. “I understand.” It wouldn’t stop him from calling in the best of the best to try and help.

The rest of the night was more lighthearted, with kids just wanting to play with their toys and talk to Santa. She’d even had a few come up to her and ask if she was a _real_ elf.

“Oh yes, very much,” she told them. “I live in the North Pole and I make tons of toys for all the kids…” She twirled. “Can’t you tell?”

“You’re a pretty elf,” a little girl said, blushing. “I wanna be an elf when I grow up.”

Bending, Chloe winked at her. “Would you like to be my elf-helper tonight?”

  
Cheerful, she nodded.

  
“Great. You can help me make sure Santa has lots of cookies and milk, okay?”

“What about carrots?” she asked, bouncing. “For the reindeer?”

Chloe bit her lip. “Well, Rudolph’s kind of full already…”

Pouting, she hurried over to her bed and pulled out a pillowcase. “But I’ve been saving up all my dinner carrots for them!”

She tried not to laugh when she was handed the soggy carrots. “I’m sure he’ll have enough room if you went through all the trouble.”

Happy, she smiled up at her. “I’ll get the cookies; you pour the milk, okay?” Hurrying toward the table of goodies, she started piling cookies of all kinds onto the plate.

Frowning, Chloe murmured to herself, “I hope there’s no peanut butter…” Before Oliver could set into them, she checked each and every one and then smiled as the crumbs continued to get caught in his white beard.

They stayed until visiting hours were long past over and the kids were starting to get sleepy. Saying goodbye, they waved from the doorway and followed the nurse into the hall.

“Thank you both so much,” she said, appreciatively.

“It was no problem,” Oliver said, still nibbling on a cookie. “They’re great kids.”

Looking up at him, she grinned. “Ease up on the cookies, Santa. You’ve got the rest of the night ahead of you.”

“I assume at midnight, when my _magical powers_ set in, I can avoid a stomach ache,” he told her.

Chuckling, she rolled her eyes. Saying goodbye to the nurse, they left back to his manor, her shoes jingling all the way.

Returned to their usual clothes, Chloe convinced him to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and with a glass of eggnog each, they took up their usual seats on the couch. With the lights off, they turned on the Christmas tree, smiling at how it twinkled and glittered. A fire roared in the fireplace, warming the room while Oliver sat in the corner of the couch with her next to him, head on his shoulder.

“I love this movie,” she sighed, grinning as it began.

And she proved it when as they were watching she would randomly quote bits and pieces. Amused, he laughed under his breath as she mimicked characters and dramatically acted out scenes.

Stroking her hair from her temple as she snuggled against his chest, he spoke along with George Bailey, “What is it you want? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down… Hey! That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon,” he promised exuberantly.

Looking up at him, Chloe grinned. “I’ll take it. And then what?”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, tugging on it lightly. “Well, then you can swallow it, and it'll all dissolve, see... and the moonbeams would shoot out of your fingers and your toes and the ends of your hair...”

Chloe chuckled, breathing a sigh of content as she laid her head back down.

Hours later, as the movie ended, the clock was just striking midnight and Oliver was standing up from the couch to stretch.

She looked up at him sleepily.

Reaching down, he scooped her up into his arms easily.

Laughing, she hooked her arms around his neck. “You sure you can manage? Carrying a little elf like me up those huge stairs?”

“Haven’t your heard? I have magical powers now,” he replied, climbing the stairs and walking her into the guest bedroom she usually occupied. Laying her down, he tucked the blanket around her, smiling as she buried her face in her pillow.

Leaning down, he kissed her hair. “Night, Chloe.”

“Mmm,” she hummed sleepily.

Quietly, he slipped out of her room and into his own. Changing into his pajamas, he climbed into bed and for the first time since he was a little kid, he didn’t mourn the fact that come morning, his parents wouldn’t be there to share in Christmas with him.

He woke to her bouncing next to him on his bed. Hooking an arm around her waist, he flipped her over until she was lying on her back next to him. Grinning while she scowled, he lifted a brow. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get your lazy butt up. I have breakfast ready and our coffee’s getting cold.” Despite what she said, she burrowed beneath his blankets. “It’s cold out there and I forgot my robe,” she explained.

Throwing an arm over his eyes, he sighed. “How long have you been up?”

“Awhile,” she said vaguely. Reaching over, she smacked his stomach to jar him further awake. “Come on, Christmas is waiting,” and with that she climbed out of his bed and stole his blanket.

Laughing to himself, he followed after her, dragging his robe on as he went.

The delicious aroma of breakfast met his nose as they stepped into the kitchen. And there set up on the table was their own little buffet. “Make enough?” he teased.

“Hey, if you’re still too full from last night’s cookies,” she said, dragging the plate of sausages toward her side of the table.

“No,” he interrupted, stealing a sausage. “I’m hungry.”

“Good.” She smiled knowingly. “Dig in.”

Wrapped in his blanket, she filled her plate and sipped her coffee.

He purposely ate slower when her impatience began to show. She really wanted to get to the presents. Laughing, he stood up from the table. “Okay, okay.”

Happy, she hopped up and hurried into the living room. “You first!” she declared, picking up a box and placing it in his lap.

An hour later, with wrapping paper everywhere, they were surrounded by their many gifts. From the little things that reminded them of each other and inside jokes to the sentimental presents, they’d had a good time. Sitting on the floor, Chloe was reading through the directions on her new bow he’d had custom made for her. On the couch, Oliver was thumbing through the album she’d made of the two of them. Pictures from what seemed like every event of the last three years, she’d packed it full of memories. With newspaper clippings of them at galas and even the hilarious cutouts of them in gossip magazines, talking of their nonexistent children together, all of whom were apparently living in the basement, next to their army of little green aliens, of course.

Christmas music sang low in the background, mixing with the glittering tree and the glow of the fire, giving the room a warm comfort. Chloe was humming to _Do You Hear What I Hear?_ when they heard a knock at the door. Pausing, they looked at each other in confusion. It was early Christmas morning, the staff had all gone away to stay with their families, and the only people they spent this day with were the two of them. Oliver stood up, frowning. “I’ll get it.” Crossing to the front door, he swung it open cautiously, expecting the worst.

So when he got a very excited Lois Lane jumping up to hug him, he was stunned.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!” she screamed in his ear.

Letting go of him just as quickly as she grabbed him, she ran past him to hug Chloe, who was laughing in stunned disbelief. “How?”

With only a shrug for reply, Lois held up a few bags. “I brought presents and liquor!”

Chuckling, Oliver shut the door and joined them in the living room.

“Nice, you guys opened your shwag before I showed up!” Lois complained, taking in the discarded wrapping paper.

“Given we didn’t know you were _coming_ …” Oliver replied, brows lifted.

Sticking her tongue out at him, she plopped down on the floor and began dragging out gifts. “For you, and you!” she declared, dropping gifts in each of their laps. “Gimme!” she said, holding her hands out.

“Behind the tree,” Oliver said, nodding toward it.

Hurrying over, she dug out her presents and dragged them over. Rubbing her hands together, she crossed her fingers and whispered, “Please be millions of dollars!”

Chloe rolled her eyes to Oliver, who shook his head back.

She didn’t get what she wanted, but she wasn’t disappointed. When they were done unwrapping their gifts, half of which happened to come from the airport gift shop, she left for his kitchen to eat what was leftover from breakfast.

The rest of the day was spent at the manor, enjoying their new gifts and relaxing. It helped that by the time noon came around, Lois conked out on the couch like a little kid who overexerted herself. She woke up in time for dinner, however. Chloe and Oliver had cooked up a nice sized turkey with all the trimmings and sitting down at the table, Lois had them all say something they were thankful for, a tradition her dad had when she was younger. Before anybody could begin, however, the doorbell chimed loudly.

Again, they sat confused by who might be coming by.

Oliver rose from his seat and left for the front door. He didn’t get an armful of excited cousin this time, however. Instead, he was met with the slightly uncomfortable face of Chloe’s dad.

“Mr. Sullivan,” Oliver greeted, half-smiling. “Please, come in.”

Nodding appreciatively, he stepped inside. “I’m sorry I didn’t call… I was at work and I only just realized what time it was… not to mention the date.” He chuckled under his breath with nervous anxiety. “Chloe’s here?”

“And Lois.”

Gabe’s brows rose. “I assumed she’d be with the General.”

Oliver grinned. “She’s a woman of many surprises.”

Closing the door behind them, he motioned for Gabe to follow. “This is… quite the house you have here.”

Looking up, Oliver smiled at the many decorations seemingly overwhelming every inch of space. “Chloe’s doing.”

Gabe nodded. “She has a way of bringing things to life, I suppose.”

“Yeah…” His brows furrowed agreeably. “It’s a gift of hers.”

Breathing in deeply, a look of true pleasure crossed his face. “Turkey?”

Chuckling, Oliver nodded. “While the usual cook wasn’t in, Chloe took over dinner.”

“She… spends a lot of her time here.” He glanced at Oliver none-too-subtly.

“I enjoy having her,” he replied diplomatically.

Before they could reach the kitchen, Gabe paused. “Listen, Mr. Queen…” He looked up at the younger man rather uncertainly. “I’m aware that not only are you my bosses bosses boss, but that you quite obviously lead a very important role in my daughter’s life… And I know I haven’t always been there, for that I’m sorry, but… You should know that much as I value my job, if you ever _hurt_ her…” His eyes narrowed menacingly.

Oliver smiled slowly. “I understand where you’re coming from, sir… And the last thing I would ever do is hurt her.” He frowned knowingly. “But time is telling and I hope that in future, you might become _more_ of her life and then maybe you’ll see that for yourself.”

They stared at each other a long moment before finally Gabe nodded.

“So… My niece _and_ my daughter are here… And there haven’t been any epic disasters?” he asked, brow cocked.

He grinned. “Chloe’s put away her reporter’s curiosity for the holiday and Lois is… behaving herself as much as can be expected.”

Laughing, they continued into the kitchen.

“Dad?” Chloe asked, standing up with surprise. “But I thought you were working.”

Glancing briefly at Oliver, Gabe crossed the room to hug his daughter close. “Some things are more important, Buttercup.”

Flushing slightly, she smiled appreciatively.

“Hey Unc! Merry Christmas!” Lois cheered from her seat.

Chuckling, Gabe moved to hug her as well.

“Pull up a seat, we were just about to say our thanks and eat ‘til we pop.” Rubbing her hands together, Lois motioned for him to sit next to her.

Smiling, Gabe shrugged off his coat and took a seat at the immaculately set up table, surveying the many dishes and looking from person to person with warm gratitude.

“I’ll go first,” Lois offered, wiggling in her chair. “I’m thankful for… Peppermint Schnapps!” She licked her lips as if in memory.

“Lois!” Chloe exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

“Fine…” Her shoulders slumped comically. “Good family,” she said, pointedly staring at Chloe and then her uncle. “And… Billionaires who got me my new laptop – with a strong replacement policy, ‘cause we all know I’m gonna break it sooner than you expect.”

Chuckling, Oliver tipped his head modestly.

“Right…” Chloe shook her head. “Okay, well I’m thankful for having such an awesome cousin, who I’m very happy could come down.” She smiled at Lois who was nodding and motioning for her to lay on the praise. “For my dad,” she looked to her father with a smile, “Because it’s just not complete without him here…” Turning, she nodded her head to Oliver. “And for my best friend, who is without a doubt the kindest heart I’ve ever known. And I’ll be even more thankful, if we could eat this before it gets cold. Dad?”

Raising his glass, Gabe smiled gently. “Good family, great friends, and a wealth of time to really appreciate them.” With a nod to Oliver, he passed on the torch.

Clearing his throat, Oliver lifted a shoulder. “Well… I guess I’m thankful for Chloe and all that she encompasses… And her cousin, who finally stopped leaving threatening messages on my answering machine.”

Lois grinned proudly. “You earned your keep, Queen.” Picking up her fork and knife, she licked her lips, “Now everybody shut up. Momma wants some turkey!”

Spent with laughter and lighthearted fun, the four of them enjoyed their Christmas together. Amidst Lois’ not-so-subtle questions about whether the two of them had Harry and Sally’d it yet and Gabe’s curious looks, they watched Christmas movies, drank too much eggnog and Oliver and Gabe were treated to a Sullivan-Lane carol singing massacre. While Lois would have to leave the next morning, she had such a presence it felt like she’d been there for a week. At the late hour, Gabe took his leave with a hug for his daughter and a firm handshake for Oliver. And by the time Christmas had officially ended, it was just him and Chloe staring at their Christmas tree, wrapped in each other and the throw blanket.

“Not bad, was it?” he asked, resting his chin on her head.

“Nope… I think we did pretty good.”

“Target practice tomorrow? With your new bow?” he suggested.

She grinned up at him. “Of course!”

Reverently smiling at their unwrapped gifts laying tucked beneath their tree, mixed in with Lois’ and the staff’s, she squeezed him in a hug. “Merry Christmas, Santa.”

She could hear his chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Merry Christmas, sweet elf.”


	14. XIII. Of Snooping Led Awry and I Love You’s

**XIII.** _Of Snooping Led Awry and I Love You’s_

She _really_ had to think about a career change. One bad tip and she’d fallen right into the trap; like a foolish newbie, she’d jumped on what seemed like the perfect opportunity to get her story. Oliver was right; her curiosity would be the end of her. And he’d know it when tomorrow’s paper headlined with the Gazette’s top reporter being found dead. So maybe she shouldn’t have gone alone and maybe it would’ve been smarter to let Oliver know where she was going and what she was doing. But he already had so much on his plate with Queen Industries and Green Arrow duties. She thought she’d meet her source, get the Intel and be out of there before anyone was the wiser. Apparently, her source was just trying to get her out in the open for her target to pick her off.

The shooting was nothing new, she’d run away from her fair share of bullets, she’d even been hit by a few in her past. But they weren’t shooting to kill this time, no they were only shooting to wound. This way they could take her back and she’d be served what they deemed her ‘just desserts’ for getting into things she shouldn’t have. Newsflash for them, if her dad couldn’t get her to stop when she was younger, they weren’t about to scare her away now.

She put up a good fight. When they’d circled around in front of her, in the direction she was running, she was quick to pivot and head right. Mornings of yoga had left her more limber but she was beginning to think she needed a little more than that to get through situations like this. And if she survived, she promised to do a little more working out and a little less teasing of Oliver. In that area at least, she wasn’t about to give up her favorite pass time entirely.

It was when a big burly mass of muscle jumped and tackled her, rolling them across cement and dirt that she went down. On the bright side, she was pretty sure her attacker broke his arm taking her out. Not so bright, she had a concussion and the skin of her arms and hands was scraped up pretty bad. Hefting her off the ground roughly, two wise guys looked on at her like they’d just won the jackpot.

“Someone wants a private meeting with you, princess,” the uglier of the two announced, motioning toward the dark car waiting for her.

“One,” she replied, a little lacking in air after her super-sprint. “You really think a princess would wear these sneakers?” She snorted. “And two, can I rain check, I have a dinner date and a whole lot paperwork to catch up on, so—“

He only tossed her over to the other guy, snapping his fingers as if it meant to get this business done and over with.

“Some manners,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Silent, less ugly dude snorted, but he was still dragging her off toward the unmarked car.

Looking up at him, she asked, “Why don’t we skip this? Go get a cup of coffee, share some good, clean fun, huh?”

He only cocked a brow before yanking the door open and stuffing her inside.

Staring at Phillip Marcoff, she went stone-faced. “Nice seeing you again. How’s your health?” she asked easily.

“I can’t say I have the same pleasure, Miss Sullivan. Due to your lack of boundaries, my mental health is a little on the fritz.”

“I know a doctor; I’ll give him your number.”

He pursed his lips. “I thought you were smart, that you’d get the message, but it looks like you have trouble learning.”

“I learn just fine. It’s when people like you skew the facts, trying to make themselves out to be the good guy and tear down all the little people in the process.” Leaning forward, she sneered. “Did you really think nobody would find out? I mean, come on Marcoff… Robbery is one thing, but bribing supreme court justice’s to keep your drug dealers running around here is another.”

“You can’t link me to any of that, little girl.”

She smirked. “If you say so.”

Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head at her. “You must have a death wish.”

“The only thing I want is for the truth to come out… And it will, whether I’m here or not,” she promised.

He smiled, shaking his head. “A back-up plan, I presume. I kill you, your work still gets published, and I am, as they say, _cooked_.”

She grinned smugly. “Like dinner.”

“And to stop this whole thing, I have to _what_? Let you go, let you live?”

“It’d be appreciated. But whatever you decide, it won’t stop,” she admitted. “You may not like it, but I _will_ tell this city what you’ve been doing.”

Marcoff sighed. “You remind me of my mother…. Always with an opinion, always wanting to share it. And no other’s was right.” He frowned. “I hated my mother.”

“Lovely.” She rolled her eyes. “As fun as this talk about family dysfunction is, can we roll the credits already? Patience is a virtue I don’t have.”

“Now I’m left in a predicament, Miss. Sullivan. I kill you, it all goes public. I _don’t_ kill you and it still goes public… But then, I keep you alive awhile and maybe with a little persuasion, you call off this back-up plan, hm?”

“Not on your life,” she spat.

“No, no…” He smirked sadistically. “On _your_ life.”

* * *

Oliver Queen was not okay. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his best friend in three days. At first, he thought maybe she’d just gotten caught up in her work. It tended to happen; she was just as committed as he was. But when he got a hold of her editor Jim, he was informed that Chloe hadn’t been in since late Friday night and while he wouldn’t admit it aloud, it was obvious Jim too was getting concerned. After hanging up, he interrogated his home staff, asking when she was last seen at the manor, and when nothing helpful came of that, he sped over to her apartment. Nothing was out of order, nothing was missing, and there was no sign of a fight. The only problem he found was that she wasn’t there.

He called Jim again, needing to know what she’d been working on. Unfortunately, Chloe kept tightlipped about most things, especially her articles. The last thing she was about to let happen was her story get scooped out from under her. He tracked her laptop back to the Gazette, a sign she must’ve left in a hurry because she never went _anywhere_ without her bag. Booting it up, he was met with a password box. He tried everything he could think of, from childhood pets to invisible friends, parent’s names to middle names, his own and hers, but it just kept coming up incorrect. Leaning back in her chair, he ran a hand through his hair abrasively. She was missing and even with his hero identity, he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

And then, he saw the picture. The two of them were standing in front of the Eiffel tower, holding a giant baguette up so it looked like they had a huge, connected bread mustache. Inspiration struck, he typed every word that reminded him of Paris, from the cheese to the art. But it wasn’t until he typed _Napoleon_ , the name of their Hotel, that he was finally granted access. A swirling green and white mass of energy was her screensaver and as he opened it up, he found everything in alphabetical file folders. He read through the names and titles, ignoring those she’d already written up and moving on to those that either reminded him of something she’d said or that might have any connection to her disappearance.

_Marcoff, P._

His chest deflated. Jesus Christ! She couldn’t do anything easy, could she? She had to go after the worst crime boss in Star City and dig her claws in until she exposed him and all of his background. When it came to Chloe, she was willing to investigate everything everybody else _wouldn’t_. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or jump in headfirst. And he loved that about her, he did, just not when it meant that headfirst involved a swan dive right into hell. Rubbing his brow viciously, he went over his options.

What could the police do? They needed probable cause to go after Marcoff and all Oliver could provide was a file folder that stated Chloe was investigating him. Not to mention the fact that Marcoff probably had mole-cops and the last thing he needed was them turning their attention to him. If he wanted to get her out safe, he needed to stay below their radar. And while it was well known that Oliver Queen was her best friend, they didn’t have any idea what ties she had to Green Arrow.

Jaw clenched, he rose from her desk, took her laptop and bag with him and left for home. He had a rescue mission to plan. God have mercy on Marcoff and his crew if she was lost to him. There may be lines a hero like Green Arrow wouldn’t cross, but Oliver Queen only cared for his best friend and if anything had happened to her, blood would spill.

* * *

“We could ransom her,” an eager Marcoff groupie suggested. “She’s got her hand deep in Queen’s pocket; he’d give over whatever we asked.”

Chloe snorted. “Queen Industries has an anti-negotiation clause, dimwit. You ask for the money, you only alert my back-up that I’ve been kidnapped and they release my information to the masses.”

Sneering at her, he stepped closer, gripping her chin in his hand. “You must be some fuck to keep him around… Pretty little thing like you… We’re gonna have some fun before this over, just you and me… And I’ll teach you how to put that mouth of yours to better use.”

She thought she was doing pretty good with her mouth, actually. Especially when she spat on him.

Enraged, he lifted a hand to slap her across the face.

While he looked scrawny, he had to be packing some muscle beneath his loose clothes. Because the force of his hand across her face felt like it nearly took her head from her shoulders. Cheek stinging, she taste blood on her lips and had to blink to focus her eyes once more.

“Tony! What did Marcoff say? We don’t rough her up without his say-so!”

“Yeah, _Tony_ ,” Chloe sneered, grinning her red-stained teeth.

“Bitch,” Tony muttered before walking away.

She had a constant gathering of guards that came and went, keeping her locked away in some tiny little craphole of a room. If the cot was supposed to comfort her, it didn’t. If anything, it skeeved her out. How many people had lain there, questioning their fate? She paced when she was left alone, moving from one wall to the other. Just to throw them off, she started doing yoga. Calming herself down, she stretched and meditated, inwardly amused as they wondered what the hell she was doing. Humming beneath her breath to the comforting music Oliver played each morning they met, she escaped from the here and now and lived in a time of peace. She was doing the Standing Split pose; her torso twisted to the right, bending forward until her forehead was level with the front of her left ankle and her right leg was extended high in the air. She stood suspended in perfect position for exactly one minute before changing legs and lifting the opposite above her. Carefully keeping calm, breathing in and out in slow rhythm, she could feel any fear she had dissolving. For two days she was the picture of one very unaffected prisoner. At least when they weren’t dragging her out, hands tied behind her back, to try and talk her into leaving the situation alone. And when she said no, she was threatened; guns to the head, fists to the jaw, constant shaking of her to knock some sense into that hard head of hers. The problem was they couldn’t break her.

Marcoff sat before her now, a curious expression on his face. “You’re an enigma, Miss Sullivan.” He pursed his lips with some small admittance of pride. “Much larger and stronger men have sat where you have and they have told me all that I needed to know… They sobbed like children, wanting only their freedom, their _lives_.” He stared at her, trying his best to search out some understanding. “Do you care so little for your life that you would willingly discard it in sight of a story?”

“Not a story,” she bit out, glaring. “Justice.”

“Justice?” He laughed at her and her innocence. “You think your writing this will change anything? This will only cause a snag in my plans. People will ask questions, my men will be arrested, and nobody will be able to get anything to stick. Why? Because money talks, Miss Sullivan. Judges, juries, they’ll all see some _reasonable doubt_ and I will walk away, free and clear, to continue business as usual.”

“For a little while, maybe. But there has to be someone out there who can’t be bought, who _won’t_ give in to your brand of convincing. And when they do, you and your little wannabe mobsters are gonna spend a whole lot of time in jail. FYI, I’d get my hands on some soap-on-a-rope ASAP, don’t want any little slips…”

Finding no humor in her, he reached forward to grip her throat, dragging her forward until they were nose-to-nose. Each raspy breath he exhaled, she could feel the heat of it against her mouth and bile rose up in her throat. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? Like you’re gonna save this city and rid it of all us _scum_ …” He sneered at her. “What makes _you_ so special? Hm?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. “But I guarantee you, there are more out there like me. You get rid of me, another one pops up. And we will _never_ let you have this city.”

“Like a cockroach? Well, Miss Sullivan, in case you hadn’t noticed, like there will always be you _justice_ seekers, they were always be those against it. Where you will be, so will I, and unlike you and your altruistic group, I do what I have to.”

“A man of action, Marcoff? Is that what you think you are?”

Standing from his seat, he crossed his arms behind his back. “I can see that you will not be swayed. It was an unfortunate decision I made when I thought different. So instead, you will die. Anybody you ever met will die. We will burn your apartment to a crisp, bomb the Gazette, and make sure whoever this back-up you had is killed.” He looked at her now, careless.

Everybody dead. Eleanor, Joseph, Jim, probably even over-enthusiastic Rocco. Maybe Lois, too, if they could find out about her. And worst of all, Oliver. He’d have to see everyone he knew dead and then be killed himself. All because she sought to keep Star City safe from the depravity Marcoff was sure to inflict.

“There’s no one,” she announced hollowly.

He cocked a brow.

“I made it up. Sharing that information with anybody would’ve meant revealing my story before it was published… I couldn’t risk being scooped.” She smiled sadly. “I was so worried somebody else might catch on that I didn’t tell anybody I was even writing about you…” Shaking her head, she felt tears in her eyes for the first time. Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be here now. Oliver would’ve swooped in and saved her long before Marcoff and his men could rearrange her face.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t,” she said, shrugging. “I have no proof except my reporter’s pride.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“I wanted a story; I don’t want innocent people to die…” She lifted a shoulder. “So kill me and it’s over. Just leave the rest alone.”

He mused over the option, nodding his head slowly. “Fair enough… But know this, if you’re lying and anybody causes any friction after your death… I will slaughter them all.”

Swallowing tightly, she nodded.

“If it’s any consolation, Miss Sullivan, you’ve been a worth adversary.”

“No chance that lackluster award comes with freedom, does it?” she snarked, mustering a smile.

His eyes narrowed before he sat before her, the face of a killer staring her square in the eyes. “While you may have a hero’s heart, I have none at all…”

“Right…” She blinked rapidly. “Without dark there can’t be light…”

“No evil, no good.”

“Well, on the bright side, the good aren’t completely ill-equipped.”

His brow cocked questioningly.

Before he could even wonder aloud, she slammed her forehead hard into his nose, shattering the bridge. As blood poured from Marcoff’s mangled face, she stumbled back dizzily, working the cut ropes from her bound hands. While practicing her yoga, she’d been fastening a cutting instrument out of a bobby pin in her hair. Using the cement floor to sharpen the metal, she’d hid it in her palm, waiting for the right moment. As Marcoff rattled on and on, she’d been able to cut herself free. But now as he lay in a pained mess, trying to staunch the bleeding, she was looking for a way out before he could call in the others.

“This was a great heart-to-heart, really, but I’ve got an escape to make and people to out.” Dragging her leg back, she kicked Marcoff in the face, wincing as he was thrown onto his back, unconscious.

His office had two doors, one was that which she came through, and the other was to a bathroom. Knowing there were no doubt men walking the hallway outside the first door, she slipped into the bathroom and went for the window. However, as she finally got it unlocked and lifted from its previous painted-in seclusion, she found herself a little too high up to jump. But if she aimed it right, she might must make it into the garbage dumpster a few to the right. Then again, if she didn’t get the measurements right, she’d be a very messy pancake. Looking back from where she came, this was really her only option. Death was behind her and it promised to be a whole lot longer and more painful than _splat_.

Climbing onto the back of the toilet, she held the window up and swung a leg over the sill. Moving to lift her other leg, her jeans caught on the drawer of the bathroom sink. Cursing under her breath, she tried to wrangle them away, only to nearly slip out the window. Heart hammering in her chest, she climbed back out of the window to get herself free, only to hear knocking at the door. Feeling rushed, she turned to hustle her way back up onto the ledge, kneeling so she could get the best angle for leaping. She tried not to look down, but when one was aiming for a specific place below them, it was a little hard to avoid.

The men entered Marcoff’s office loudly, their feet pounding against the ground as they ran for the bathroom. It was now or never.

She jumped.

***

Shaking down men affiliated with Marcoff wasn’t easy. They all had their fears that they’d be killed for being a rat and Oliver couldn’t exactly assure them the opposite. But when faced with the here and now, a very painful fist to the face, they eventually spilled the whereabouts of a certain warehouse Marcoff was currently invested in. Pulling up schematics was usually Chloe’s job, but after calling in a few favors he had the layout of the warehouse soon enough. There were too many options for where she might be stored and this was one more reason his two-person-hero-army wasn’t yet equipped to handle these things. But there was no way he was letting his best friend die when he had the option of going in, arrows a blazing and save her… Or get them both killed. At least if that happened, neither would have to mourn the other.

Dawning his suit and well-stocked on arrows and every other weapon he’d secretly had some of his employees build, he zip-lined from city rooftops until he stood atop his targeted warehouse. There were men walking the perimeter, armed to the teeth. Smoking to keep the cold out, they chatted aimlessly with each other, all the while unknowing that he stood on the roof, making his way to the exit leading inside. Armed with sleeper gas, he planned to knock out the first wave of men before exploring the many rooms for any sign of her.

Hearing a rustling down the hall, he paused, hid behind a wall and waited.

His heart stopped as she came into view. Her face was mottled red, purple and yellow bruises marring her skin, her lip was split and there were blood stains on her shirt that appeared wet. Hand around her throat, a thin but muscled man pushed her in front of him, yanking a door open and shoving her inside. “I’ll take care of it,” he said to the other few men. “Make sure Marcoff’s all right; pretty sure she broke his nose.”

Nodding at him, the other two left while the third stared at Chloe through the door before showing a lascivious smirk and stepping inside.

***

Just as her feet left the sill, a hand grabbed the back of her shirt. Dangling precariously, nowhere near her wanted landing area, she looked up to see Tony glaring down at her. She struggled to make him let her go; better to die on the hard pavement than suffer anymore of him. He was a lot stronger than she expected though and when he pulled her high enough, he hooked his hand around her elbow and twisted her around. Face pressed to the hard wall of the building, she could feel it scraping her skin and pulling her shirt. The pressure of him dragging her upward was hard on her shoulder socket but she refused to cry out, instead using her legs to try and get leverage behind her. He kept rattling her though and her feet would lose purchase. Her shirt pulled up her body and her stomach was bare against the hard wall, tearing her flesh. By the time he pulled her through the window, she could feel stinging and blood soaking through her top.

Grabbing her by her hair, he pulled her up onto her feet and yanked her back into the office. Marcoff was awake and holding a handkerchief to his nose. Glaring lethally, he motioned for Tony to just kill her already. With a superior grin, Tony pulled her out of the room to do just that. Her feet kept tripping beneath her and it didn’t help that he had such a long stride. Pushing her in front of him, he held her in place with a heavy hand around her throat.

There were two others following behind them, each of them with bright ideas on how to kill her.

“I was well on my way to death, if you hadn’t noticed,” she muttered around his stranglehold. “If Tony the Testosterone Tiger would’ve just let me _fall_ ….”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he growled against her ear, chuckling as she shuddered. “We never got to play, remember?”

It was that reminder that nearly made her legs go out. He wasn’t just going to kill her; he wanted to strip her of her dignity first.

She wished she’d jumped sooner; face planting on the cement would’ve been kinder.

Shoved into her original cell, she searched the sparse room for anything resembling a weapon. She’d kill him if he put one more disgusting finger on her. Unfortunately, the only tool she’d had was used to cut herself free and it was currently laying useless in Marcoff’s office.

When Tony stepped back into the room, she turned slowly, her body tightening, getting ready to put up one hell of a fight. It didn’t matter that her insides were shaking, that she really just wanted to cry, or that she desperately wished she’d gone to Oliver’s for a movie night rather that get out of it for work. It didn’t matter that she was terrified or wanted to cry out for help. She wasn’t going to let him see her weakness; she wasn’t going to let him take from her what he wanted. Before he attacked, her last thought, her last hope, was that Oliver would be okay without her.

She might’ve been limber but she was no match. Using his height and strength against her, he tossed her onto the cot like a ragdoll. Crawling back toward the wall, she looked for anything useful, anything she might be able to throw at him, beat him with, gouge his eyes, whatever. But there was nothing. They’d taken careful measures to leave her with nothing. He undid the belt on his pants, followed by the button and zipper before lewdly rubbing himself in front of her. Vomit burned her throat and as he got closer, she wasn’t afraid to try and kick him directly where his hand cupped. He caught her ankle, however, and dragged her down the tiny bed. Sliding between her thighs, he tore open her pants and pushed her shirt up her waist, revealing her torn up flesh.

Eyes burning, she shoved at him, using her arms and legs to try and disentangle them. Hands flying, she slapped his face, his shoulders, gouged his skin with her nails, but he didn’t stop. He slapped her, rattled her head enough that she had to take a second to gather her wits. Hands sliding beneath her jeans, his fingers worked under her underwear, pulling them downward and out of his way. She stilled, a heartbeat of terror that engulfed her wholly. And then everything stopped.

She was scared to look, but she did so anyway. And while Tony still knelt between her legs, he was no longer moving. Green Arrow stood at his back, the serrated edge of an arrow pointed at the back of Tony’s neck. “Move. Now.”

Swallowing tightly, Tony slid back on his knees and stood up, his jeans falling to the floor at his feet.

Cocking his head, the Green Arrow stared at him a long moment. “I should kill you.”

Chloe wanted to argue but she had no words. She was shaking from the inside out and her relief was so overwhelming that her tears finally escaped. So when he looked at her, at the broken mess Tony had made her, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he pulled the trigger. She wasn’t even sure if she’d care. But he didn’t. He slammed his bow so hard against Tony’s head, he was thrown to the ground in an unconscious heap that would likely need smelling salts to rouse him from. And still, Oliver stared at him like it wasn’t enough, like he had to do more.

“Don’t,” she whispered softly.

He turned back to her, walked slowly as if trying his best not to scare her. Feeling the way she was, she wouldn’t be surprised if she looked like a scared little rabbit.

He knelt before her in the same place Tony had, except his presence wasn’t the same. He reached for her and with strong, caring hands, he tugged her panties back into place, drew her jeans closed and buttoned them. His fingers lightly touched her stomach before his hand curled into a dark fist. Putting her shirt back into place, he took her hand and helped her up. “Stay close, stay quiet,” he told her. “You’re going to be fine.” Pulling her behind him, he opened the door and checked side-to-side for others.

She nodded but already she felt like she was separated from her body.

“Hey,” he called.

She looked up, dazed.

“Trust me,” he said, his tone deathly serious.

She wanted to tell him she hated that stupid voice distorter of his; that she wanted to hear his real voice. She wanted to be holding Oliver’s hand right now, not Green Arrow’s. But she understood that she couldn’t, because right now he was just trying to save her life.

Three men walked by, talking to each other without paying any attention to the door.

“You think Tony’s done with her yet?” one wondered.

“Feisty little thing like her? Probably won’t kill her ‘til morning.”

  
They laughed and Chloe felt rage fire up inside her.

  
Green Arrow gripped her hand, stilling her from alerting them to their presence.

He waited until the voices had ebbed before he drew her out. They turned the corner and he motioned toward the roof exit. Salvation, so close. They hurried toward it and Chloe’s lungs eagerly sucked in air as she pushed back tears of rejoice.

Bullets slammed into the walls on either side of them. He turned once, caught sight of them men coming after them and shoved her behind his back before lifting his bow. Three arrows through three shoulders, the guns fell and the men all reached for their injury. They’re shouting alerted others and the heavy footfalls of more coming their way only spurred Chloe into action. Taking the gun hooked onto Oliver’s belt, she started shooting. Having never used one before, her shots were erratic, but it forced the coming men to stop and hit the ground to avoid her poor shot. Tugging Oliver’s hand, she reached for the door and pulled him in. They climbed the stairs two at a time before breaking out on the rooftop.

There were alarms singing in the background, but they weren’t because she escaped. Cop cars, red and blue lights shining, were racing toward the warehouse.

She looked up at Green Arrow in confusion. “How’d you convince them?”

“I didn’t,” he said, shrugging. “I called in a bomb threat. With what they have going on downstairs, they’ll go away for awhile. And even if it doesn’t keep, the dirt you dug up will put them away.”

She breathed a sigh of relief; it wasn’t completely over, but with any luck, it could be.

Walking them to the ledge, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Hold on tight.”

She did just that and despite her fears before, flying through the air with just him and a zip line was the safest she’d ever felt. With the wind whipping all around them and the sounds of the city reaching to the skies they swung through, she wanted to stay just where she was, away from it all, for as long as possible.

He brought her back to the manor, didn’t say a word as he carried her upstairs and laid her down in his bed. He hadn’t let her go since he’d found her and while she might have said some snarky line about personal space before, right now all she wanted was to be held. He filled a bowl with hot water and sat down on the edge of his bed with it and a cloth. Tossing his sunglasses away and flicking off his voice-distorter, he grimaced as he peeled her shirt back from her stomach. With great care, he tenderly wiped the dry blood and dirt away, rinsing the cloth off and on until all that remained were a few angry red scrapes.

“It might scar,” he murmured, his deep voice lower than usual. He stroked her waist with his thumb and the repetitive movement only served to calm her.

“What’s a few more?” she replied, shrugging.

He didn’t reply, instead he returned to the bathroom to dump the water and fill it up with a fresh heated batch. When he came back, he soaked the cloth and turned her face toward him. She had to blink away tears as he lightly washed away the remnants of the past few days. The bruises would take more than a light touch, but they would fade. She stared at the water as it turned rusty, colored with her blood. The cloth was stained, dirty now, and she wanted to weep. Here in his bedroom, in a million dollar manor, she was wearing three day old clothes, looking like a torn, dirty, bloodied mess.

She tried to inhale a breath to calm herself down, but it shook so violently there was no way to ignore her impending emotions.

Reaching for her, he dragged her into his lap and held on tight. “I’ve got you,” he murmured against her hair, stroking her back as she sobbed against his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Over and over, he did his best to make her feel better.

He held her until she cried herself tol asleep, still wrapped around him. Lowering her back to the bed he climbed in next to her, unwilling to let her out of his sight. Throat burning, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t found her. Chloe Sullivan, justice-seeker, found raped and murdered. A sob broke in his throat; he wouldn’t have survived that. She was all he had left.

He couldn’t sleep, scared that if he did he’d wake up and she’d be gone. That he didn’t get there in time; didn’t save her like he was meant to. His own best friend and he was three days late on getting her back from homicidal mobsters. What kind of hero was he?

“Stop blaming yourself,” she murmured sleepily, rolling over until she was facing him.

He shook his head. “I should’ve known earlier.”

Sighing, she played with the zipper on his leather vest. He hadn’t yet changed and neither had he noticed until then.

“I should’ve told you what I was doing, where I was going, who I was investigating…” She looked up at him. “I made a huge mistake. Next time, I know that if I ever plan to get into something this deep, there needs to be a better back-up strategy.” She tapped her chin. “I was thinking tracking devices, kind of our own personal LoJack.”

He half-smiled. “For all our anti-kidnapping needs, we’ll be equipped with ChloJack… Interesting.”

She grinned. “That way it won’t take three days and…” Swallowing suddenly, she bit her lip. “Well, then it can all be over with a lot…” She blew out a shaky breath. “Quicker. Right?”

Stroking her hair back from her bruised face, he stared at her seriously. “Tell me what happened.”

Sniffling, she shook her head. “They just knocked me around a little.” Rolling her eyes, she tried to smile. “I told them if they killed me there’d be a back-up plan and my story would still get out… They wanted to know who but since I didn’t actually _have_ one it didn’t matter. Even if I did, I wasn’t about to tell _them!_ ”

“And before I came in… That was…?” His jaw clenched tightly.

  
Reaching for him, she massaged his chin with her thumb until he relaxed. “First time… and thankfully he didn’t go through with it… He’d suggested he might but Marcoff ordered that nobody touch me without his say-so… It wasn’t until they realized I wasn’t going to crack that they decided to kill me, and I guess breaking Marcoff’s nose didn’t help matters.”

  
He chuckled lightly. “You broke his nose?”

“Mm…” She grinned. “Twice, I think.”

Laughing, he shook his head at her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah…” She lifted a shoulder. “I’m definitely that.”

Slowly, the lightheartedness faded and he was looking at her regretfully. “It was close this time… Not something my lawyers can fix.”

“I know.”

He stared at her searchingly. “I could’ve lost you tonight.”

“Hey,” she murmured, “I told you before I’d only haunt your pretty, leathered ass.”

“Not the same,” he said gravely. Rubbing his forehead, he rolled onto his back. “You have no idea how much you mean to me if you think I could handle losing you…”

“Ollie,” she sighed, wiggling across the bed. Resting her head on his chest, she squeezed his waist gently. “I would never willingly leave, you know that.”

“You’ve gotta be more careful.” Wrapping his arm around her, he hugged her close.

“I will…” Turning her head, she looked up at him. “I can’t guarantee I won’t get into trouble, but I’ll always talk to you about these things. If we stay updated then we can stay safe. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Marcoff sooner.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.” He smiled tiredly. “We’re partners, we’ve gotta work together if we want anything to happen right.”

“I know.” Wrinkling her nose, she teased, “So on a scale of one to ten, just how scared were you? Running in there, guns in your direction, some hapless woman crying out, ‘Save me! Save me!’ This is regular hero stuff!”

“If I remember correctly, you weren’t calling out for help. And hapless as you are, you did end up getting lucky since I eventually showed up.”

She rolled her eyes. “I could’ve taken him!”

“Yeah…” He frowned. “Listen, what happened there, what he was about to do…”

“Oliver,” she interrupted, staring up at him. “I was scared, I mean absolutely _terrified_ , but all that matters is that you got there in time… Okay?”

Her eyes glittered with tears and while he knew that moment would haunt her, he also knew that right now, she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Okay.”

“Good…” Pulling the blanket up around them, she snuggled in close. “Come tomorrow, everything will be sorted out. Right?”

“Right.”

With a yawn, she rubbed her face into his chest. “Try not to hog the covers.”

He chuckled under his breath.

It was a few minutes later when he finally voiced what he wanted to say. “Hey?”

“Mm?”

He paused for only a moment, before asking softly, “You know I love you, right?”

Looking up at him, she smiled. “Of course I do… Oliver, you’re my _best_ friend, you show it to me every day!”

He nodded, his throat tight. He’d never voiced it though, and racing against everything to get her back, he’d been scared that she didn’t know. That maybe she had absolutely no idea that she was the most important person in his life. That even if he was saving her now, she’d saved him years ago, the day they met.

“Now go to sleep before you worry yourself to death,” she ordered.

He smiled, relaxing some.

“And Ollie?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You know this means I’m going to have to train you to fight better, right?” He cocked a brow.

“If at any point I start to look like Xena, I’m hitting McDonald’s like a mad woman,” she snarked back.

So all snooping gone awry and near-death experiences aside, he figured as horrible as this time had been, it had at least brought them closer. And he vowed, knowing that things like this were only going to happen more in their future, that he would never let her doubt what he felt. She was his one and only friend, the brightest part of his life, and if one day neither of them came back from their crazy heroics, he at least wanted her to know what she’d been to him. His partner, his Sunshine, his soul mate – the best friend any billionaire vigilante hero could have.


	15. XIV. Of Drill Sergeants and New Outfits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AU) Chloe Sullivan grew up in Star City, California with high hopes of becoming a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, but destiny has other plans. Finding a best friend in billionaire Oliver Queen, their lives intersect and take them on a journey neither of them ever expected.

 

 **XIV**. _Of Drill Sergeants and New Outfits_

He’d be lucky if she didn’t hate him by the end of this.

Chloe was no quitter, and whining wasn’t in her history. But when she was being drilled into the ground these things tended to want out. Complaining was a last resort and despite a few pleas to take a break here or there, she took what he handed out and she pushed herself harder. Her body screamed at her to quit already, to give in to the unrelenting strain of aching muscles and seizing lungs, but she didn’t, wouldn’t.

In the years she’d known Oliver, she’d regularly teased him about his Adonis-like body and how he vainly took care of it. But now that she was doing the work to get herself into shape, she was beginning to find a whole lot of respect for him. Just as soon as she got her body honed, she wasn’t about to do anything to lose it; because working it into what she needed was hard enough the first time.

Oliver was no slouch in the trainer department. He kept on her despite mood, situation or any scheduling differences. She knew it was only because of what happened with Marcoff; he refused to let her be a victim. So he pushed her and he pushed her and when she was ready to break he kept her together. If it had been anybody else in her ear, urging her forward, she would’ve snapped. But she trusted him and she knew he was only doing this for her benefit. And so she followed his rules and she did what needed to be done. Before and after work, she arrived at his place without fail, and she sweated and worked until he finally told her she was done. While she’d never be a brick house, she could see the rewards showing. She felt where her body was changing; somewhere deep behind the pain of it.

They continued their yoga each morning, the stretching helped to relax and release any stress from the day before. When she’d properly centered herself, they started running. Laps around the manor were long, the property he owned was massive and she didn’t know just how much until they were jogging together around the whole of it. In the beginning, she’d content herself with waving at the gardeners taking care of the flowers and hedges. But after awhile, when jogging became hardcore running, she could only try to regulate her breathing and tell herself her knees weren’t going to go out on her. And he pushed her, running circles around her when she slowed down. “Come on, Chloe… You can do this… Just breathe!”

She glared at him, not happy that he had an edge of years working out behind him. But her irritation only pushed her to try harder and she knew he knew it. If anything, he learned to use his own arrogance and training to make her keep going. She was no quitter and even if it was only to save face, she wasn’t about to stop or slow. Whatever he could do, she could do too.

When they finished running, he moved her right along into sit ups, pull ups, squats and balance training. And he did it all right next to her, urging her on with each of his movements and sarcastic jabs to get her motivated. “That all you got, Sullivan? I expected more!”

She worked with him for months, out in the field and inside the weight room. And when she had time after work, she went to a local kick-boxing class for extra help. Over the course of six months, she worked out every frustration she ever had. And there were many. Where once her only defense had been a tazer, now it was herself. There was no chance of someone like Tony getting close enough to do any damage to her again. It was that reminder that always got her going; on days when she felt like she could happily die, her body hurt so much, she’d remember how easily he’d tossed her on that cot and she’d force herself up.

Her thighs burned with each squat, and her calves felt like they were tearing in half when she ran the perimeter of Queen Manor, by the end of each day she was like a limp noodle. She lost weight and gained muscle, but she was in no way Xena’s equal. Her stomach flattened and if anything, her curves became more present because of how her waist cinched in and her hips still flared. For the first time in a long time, she felt confident for something other than her quick wit. She knew she was pretty, but beautiful wasn’t a term she’d equate to herself. However, with the strength she had, inside and out, she felt like could do and be anything.

She refused to diet; mostly because she was fairly certain Oliver would try and take her coffee away and that was a no-go. Besides, she loved food, especially when made by Eleanor. She would work her butt off with weights and the rock-climbing classes he’d signed them up for, but she wasn’t giving up popcorn or pasta. So while she could still have all of her favorite foods, she had to make up for it when she stepped onto the work-out mat. Wrestling Oliver was an amusing and frustrating experience. He had a height and weight advantage that never failed to annoy her. But he was teaching her how to use her own attributes against him and on those rare days that she was able to knock him on his ass, she got a surge of pride from it.

But most days, she just wanted to bury her head in a pillow and tell him to go to hell.

Which was what she was doing today.

“Chloe… We’ve got class in less than an hour. If we wanna beat traffic you have to get up and ready,” he sighed.

Holding herself hostage beneath her very comfortable duvet, she scowled despite knowing he couldn’t see her. “I’m sick.” Her half-hearted attempt at a cough was pitiful.

He snorted. “Yeah, it’s a real health scare.”

“Shut up!” Throwing her blanket off her head, she glared up at him. “Oliver… I love you, I do… But I’m not doing this.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s dancing, Chloe… I’m not asking you to swim with sharks.”

Her lip curled. “I don’t see how learning every dance there ever was is going to help me.”

“It’s a serious workout and it’ll help your balance.” He shrugged, unaffected.

Eyes narrowed, she shook her head. “I’m balanced… and if I work out anymore my muscles are going to burst out of my skin and strangle me.”

“You’re overreacting,” he said simply.

“No! No, don’t you act like this doesn’t hurt. Because it does! A lot!”

Smiling gently, he sat down on the bed next to her. Reaching out, he rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. “I know it does. And you’re doing awesome. Just take these classes with me, they’re only three weeks long and by that time, this will probably all be over.”

Her lips pursed. “Probably?”

He grinned. “All right, gimme three weeks and I’ll scale down your workouts until you’re at a more moderate pace.”

“By moderate do you mean I can go back to just yoga?” she wondered hopefully.

“Yoga, swimming and running,” he offered, brows lifted staunchly.

She sighed remorsefully. “Ugh… That’s hardly a bargain.”

Chuckling, he stared at her in amusement. “I’m relieving you of all your weight training.”

Lower lip out in a pout, she asked, “Do I have to run?”

“Yes… With the amount of running away from targets you already do, it’s pretty much a must.”

Rolling her eyes, she rolled onto her stomach and groaned against her pillow. “Fine… But I’m wearing sneakers to this dance thing!”

“I already bought your shoes and dress,” he argued before standing from the bed. “And trust me, they’re not sneakers.”

Sighing, she knew she was defeated. The only upside was that in three weeks, she’d be hurting a whole lot less.

Dancing was fun-ish.

They learned everything from the Cha-Cha to the Waltz, but the Rumba was her favorite. Oliver was an excellent dancer, having learned early and only excelled later. Their teacher warned that it was best to make a connection with your dance partner, to learn their cues and take heed of their personalities so one could truly move with them. Since she and Oliver were already so in sync with each other, that wasn’t hard. It was learning to let herself loose and flow with the music that became her problem. She thought too much, always focusing on what she looked like. In situations like this, she often felt embarrassed, and a good way to get out of it was usually with sarcasm.

“This is stupid,” she muttered, listening to the teacher try and tell them what their next move was. “I feel like I’m walking on stilts and the ground is jell-o.”

“I like jell-o.”

She laughed. “Oliver!”

He grinned. “What? You wanted me to commiserate? Quit being a baby, Sunshine. Just dance with me!”

Groaning, she did just that, trying to stop her smile the whole time.

He made it fun, instead of letting it be some overdramatic thing between them. And spinning around on heels entirely too thin for safety’s sake, only to find herself safe in his arms was beyond comforting. Where she might’ve lost balance, he was always there to catch her. He mirrored her movements, read her fears and her slips before they even happened. And she took from his confidence to gain her own; learned that doubting herself wasn’t helping. She had to believe she could do something in order to do it. Expecting failure only made her fail. It took time, learning that she had no reason to be embarrassed, that she wasn’t as clumsy as she thought, and that there would always be a safety net to fall back on if she ever should make that fatal mistake.

When three weeks had past, Oliver was calling her Twinkle-Toes and she had mastered their dance classes. And finally, the worst was over with. The mornings were restricted to their usual yoga routine, running and light swimming. When her kick boxing class was done, she tried something else, going into a belly-dancing course for the fun of it. It toned her stomach while simultaneously boosting her ego and while Oliver made all the jokes under the sun, she still enjoyed it.

When she arrived at his house, she expected him to bombard her with target practice suggestions. They hadn’t had quite enough time to fit in regular shooting what with her already hectic training schedule. But as she entered the manor, all was quiet.

“Joey?” she called out, searching the lower half for any sign. The kitchen was empty, meaning Eleanor had likely gone home, and any sign of the other staff was non-existent. Suspicions raised, she crept along the hallway, using the mirrors and pictures on the wall to give her a look into rooms before she passed them by. For Oliver’s place to be so quiet this early was simply impossible.

She used the back stairs, knowing very few had any idea where they were. Hidden behind a door next to the pantry, they led to the second floor through Oliver’s office. Without making a sound, heart hammering, she eased her way out of the office and into the hallway. She heard rustling, but from where she couldn’t pinpoint. His bedroom door was shut and so was the spare room she usually occupied. There were three other bedrooms and two bathrooms on this floor, however. Not to mention the master suite his parents had used that he never went near.

Walking down the hallway, her ears perked for any sign of life, she came to a sudden stop when she felt a chill run down her spine. Her instincts were screaming at her that somebody was behind her and just as a hand reached out past her shoulder, her body tensed. Whoever he was, he had a tight grip on her throat, but she wasn’t about to panic. After all this time spent working herself into frenzy, she was going to let him know who the hell was boss around here. Throwing her elbow back until it slammed into a hard body, she grabbed his hand, hooked her other around his arm, bent her knees and flipped the man right over her and onto his back. Before he could take a breath, she was back on him. Straddling his waist, she had the heel of her hand against his throat, cutting off his air supply. Wearing a black ski-mask, she couldn’t see his face. She reached for it, but he quickly began bucking his hips at her and managed to throw her off of him. Somewhat expecting that, she braced herself and rolled easily back into position. Feet planted and knees bent, her arms rose, fists lifted as she waited for him to attack. She could feel the menacing look on her face and the exhilaration of the fight in her body. Now she knew what Oliver felt when he was out there each night, saving lives.

He stepped closer, his shoulders hunching and his arms widespread as if he were going to tackle her. Remembering her experience with Marcoff’s man and his not so comfortable tackle, she moved first. Scissor kicking high in the air, she caught him in the chest and landed on her feet, losing her balance for a half a second before she caught herself again. He stumbled, fell back but was on his feet just as quick, simply rubbing his chest before he lifted a hand and encouraged her to do it again.

Angry with his arrogance, she attacked. But it was the emotion she put behind it that was her downfall. When she went to strike with her fist he caught it, twirling her around until her back was pinned to his front. He used her own arm to keep her in a chokehold, her forearm pressed tight against her larynx.

Tugging his mask off, he laughed. “Close but no cigar, Twinkle-Toes.”

She stilled, lifted her head back and stared at the amused face of her best friend. Pissed off even more now, she took a deep cleansing breath. And then she slammed her heel into his foot, her elbow into his gut, kicked his feet out from beneath him, pinned him on the floor, face down, and took his arm hostage behind his back. “I’ll take a Cuban, Arrow. Right after you find your manhood!”

He laughed, patting the floor in a sign of giving up and with a frown she stood.

Arms crossed, she glared darkly at him. “And that was necessary, why?”

He grinned, dusting off his all-black outfit. “Had to test your reflexes and I knew you’d always take it easy on me for fear of actually doing damage.”

Logical. Didn’t make her any less upset though.

With a roll of her eyes, she lifted her brow. “Love the outfit. Very outdated burglar-esque.”

Smirking, he nodded. “Thank you. I have one for you, too.”

“Black’s really not in this season,” she muttered, pursing her lips.

Sighing, he reached out for her. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared!” she bit out.

“Maybe not for yourself, but I bet you were worried about me and the staff,” he replied knowingly.

She really wished she could wipe that smirk off his face. Rolling her eyes, she simply shrugged. “Maybe for Joey and Eleanor.”

“Okay, fine, be mad at me all you want, but I still want to give you a little graduation present.” Arm wrapped around her shoulders, he walked her back into his office.

Staring up at him with a furrowed brow, she asked, “Graduation?”

“You officially finished Oliver Queen’s Training Program; I think that deserves something…”

“Drill Sergeant that you were, I’m expecting a trip to Maui where hot pool boys will do whatever I ask,” she mused.

“I’ll take that suggestion under advisement,” he replied, smiling. “In any case… I have something else for you.”

Revealing his secret Arrow room -of which she still found fascinating no matter how many times the wall moved- he led her inside by the hand.

There, hanging next to his green leather outfit was another one. Except it was white, not leather, and entirely too petite for him.

“I know you said no suit, but given that you’re a well-trained partner now and we don’t know what might come up in future, I thought it might be best if we at least had one on hand…” He stared, waiting for some kind of reaction.

The pants were tight, from hip to ankle, with white surcingle belts that looped around her waist and thighs, clasps ready to hold whatever tools she might be equipped with. Her top was reminiscent of his, with the same type of shape and front-zipper; the only difference being the color and sleeves. A hood, dark gloves and a pair of white sunglasses accompanied her new outfit. And then there were the boots; black with a small heel they were, perhaps, her favorite part.

“So?” he asked impatiently.

“It’s…” She blinked. “Can I try it on?”

He grinned. “Of course.”

She motioned for him to turn around and he did so while she got her suit out from behind its glass casing. It took her a few minutes to get everything in place, zipping herself and her boots up before clasping belt buckles and donning her new glasses. “Okay…”

Turning slowly, he took her in from head to toe, his brows raising. “Wow… You look really… Wow.”

She laughed lightly, smoothing her hands down her suit. It wasn’t too tight, like she’d expected, and it was surprisingly versatile as she moved and bent to test it out. “It’s actually kinda comfortable.”

He smirked.

Rolling her eyes, she pointed a thumb back at his. “But mine’s not leather, so…”

“No, but you’re fire retardant.”

Her lips curled. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “I honestly hope there’s never a situation where you’re anywhere near enough to test that out, but yes, I made sure they had it specially made so you wouldn’t burst into flames at any time.”

“Comforting,” she mused. “So… Are we gonna stand around here gawking at my awesomeness or are we gonna do something with it?”

“Target practice?” he suggested happily.

With a chuckle, she nodded. “Sure… Just let met get out of this and I’ll join you outside.”

Nodding, he stepped back from his room. “Before you know it,” he called back, “People will be calling you hero in your own newspaper.”

She smiled after him, looking down at herself rather proudly. She hadn’t done anything so heroic yet, but she just knew that given the chance, she’d prove him right. Maybe this reporter was meant to do more than just write about the story; maybe she was meant to live it.


	16. XV. Of Unexpected Dreams and Suspicious Cousins

******XV.** _Of Unexpected Dreams and Suspicious Cousins_

He was kissing her neck; smooth lips sliding down her throat with such precision she felt it in her toes. Heat fanned out across her body, reaching in rolling tendrils from her lips out; searing her throat, making her shoulders tingle, sliding down her spine and coiling around her thighs. His body was so heavy on her, but not suffocating, no, quite the opposite. It felt right; it felt like he _fit_ there. His hands were _everywhere_ ; running up and down her sides, squeezing her hips, stroking her thighs. It was an overload of perfection; she could hardly breathe, it all felt so good.

He lay cradled between her thighs, his bare body pressed against every inch of her. Tucking her hair behind her ears, he cupped her cheeks. Staring up into brown eyes, her heart hammered loudly in her chest. He nuzzled her nose, smiling at her so warmly she felt her stomach jolt with the affection found there. She reached for him; her hands sliding along the ends of his hair, letting it tickle her palms. She laughed, felt her whole face light up. And then he was ducking and those soft lips were pressed against her own.

She moaned, gripping the back of his neck. He tasted like freedom and warmth and laughter.

His hips pressed insistently against her and she parted her legs further, expectantly. Until finally, he was sliding deep inside her. Her head fell back, a keening noise of appreciation escaping her taut throat. He took her arched body as his cue to envelop her nipple with his lips, suckling and nibbling her breast with intense purpose. She could feel him inside her, the full weight and girth of him so unbelievably fulfilling. Hands sliding down his slick back, she gripped his waist, urging him to thrust.

“More,” she whimpered. “ _Please_. I need more!”

She literally felt like she’d cry if he didn’t move.

He kissed up her chest, along her throat, his lips hovering at the tip of her chin. She stared up at him, at that familiar face that was a calming constant in her life. “Ollie.”

He grinned; his eyes crinkling with laugh lines at the corner, only making him look all the more charming.

And then there was a buzzing, as if their time was up, game over.

She frowned, eyes darting to and fro, looking for the offending noise to make it stop. But when her head turned, she jolted. Blinking wildly, she found herself back in her bed, with nothing but a warm blanket keeping her company. The alarm clock was yelling at her to get up and she scowled in its direction before rolling over. If she tried hard enough, she could still remember the cherished feeling she’d had just moments before.

This was driving her nuts. She’d been having these dreams for a week now and they weren’t letting up. Every time she closed her eyes and drifted away, she found herself in some erotic dream with her _best friend_. The first time she’d dreamt of it, they were lying in an open field and he was slowly stripping her of every piece of clothing before kissing each exposed inch of her skin. Bare before him, she laid spread without inhibitions as he held her hips and kissed her heat until she begged for release. But she _always_ woke up; right before that moment where _finally_ the culmination of it all would claim her. And upon waking up, she felt that same sense of loss and embarrassment. She shouldn’t _want_ these dreams; she shouldn’t wish she was still sleeping. But she couldn’t help wanting those sensations back; the feel of being wrapped in him.

With a groan, she rolled onto her back and reached for her phone, dialing the number off by heart.

“Yeah?” The strong noise of crunching came through the phone.

“Are you _eating_ on the phone?” she asked, half-smiling.

“Hey, if you’re gonna _call_ during breakfast, that’s not _my_ fault.”

“You’re at work,” she reminded.

“Yeah, I know… I woke up late,” Lois sighed. “So what’s up?”

“Apparently my libido,” she muttered, closing her eyes.

Lois laughed. “What?”

“I’m been having some…” She frowned. “Dreams, lately.”

“Yeah, that’s usually what happens when we sleep.”

“Yeah, well… These are of a less _friendly_ sort.” She winced, biting her lip.

“Who’s the entrée?” she asked glibly.

“Lois!”

“What?” she scoffed. “So you’re having steamy dreams? So what? The only interesting part in this is who you’re getting it on with.”

“Ugh!” She should’ve known her cousin would focus on that. “Look, it’s a little more personal than that.”

“Getting it on, making _love_ , whatever…”

“No, I mean… I mean I know him. Personally… Very well.”

There was a pause. “You’re doing _Ollie_ , aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Yes! I knew it! I told you!”

“Not in _reality_!” Chloe argued loudly.

“Yeah, whatever, still! So? How was it?” she wondered eagerly.

“Dreamtastic,” she muttered sarcastically. “Now can you focus? I need to know _why_ I’m having them and how to _stop_ them!”

“I think the _why_ is pretty damn obvious,” she snorted. “But _stop_ them? _Why?_ ”

“Because…” She chewed her lip. “Every time I look at him now I can’t help thinking about it and he has no idea why I’m acting so weird. So if they would just _stop_ , this whole uncomfortable episode could go away.”

Lois wasn’t convinced. “And if it’s just your mind telling you there’s something _more_ there that you’re missing?”

“It’s not!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Look, I really just think it’s after the training and the near-death thing. I’m grasping at what I know. _Maybe_ my subconscious is trying to say I’m ready to date again. I’ve been less than enthused with the idea since the whole Marcoff thing!”

“Yeah, right, blame it on Marcoff. You weren’t dating _long_ before then. In fact, I don’t think you’ve dated since before Oliver showed up,” Lois pointed out smugly.

“Okay, I get it, you think we should be together,” she growled, “Now can you _please_ just help me stop this.”

“Fine… But I do so under extreme protest.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yeah, great. Now what?”

“I dunno. I’m no dream-weaver. Go see a therapist or a fortune teller or something.”

She sighed. “Great. You were such a big help.”

“What’d you expect?” she snorted.

“Yeah, I know.” Checking the time, she shook her head. “I gotta go anyway. I’ll call you later.”

“Fine, but FYI, next time you call to tell me you and Billionaire Babe are jumping each other, I want details.” With that, she hung up and Chloe was left both amused and frustrated with her cousin.

Knowing there was no way she could just go back to sleep she threw her blanket off and padded over to her shower. She had to be at Oliver’s in an hour anyway, there was no point in avoiding the inevitable. It wasn’t long later before she was hanging out in Oliver’s kitchen, her rolled up yoga mat on the floor while she ate an omelet Eleanor didn’t have to force on her.

When he walked in, he was wearing nothing but a low-slung pair of sweat pants, and she choked on her coffee. He stared at her queerly, “You all right?”

She nodded abruptly, but she couldn’t get the image from another of her dreams out of her; she’d licked that chest with passionate vigor. And staring at it now definitely wasn’t helping to get it off her mind.

Oliver was fond of not wearing his shirt and she’d never really complained before; he was nice to look at. But her mind had played with her knowledge to create a fanciful depiction of him. While in reality she knew every inch of his chest by sight, -the scars, the sculpt-, in her dreams she knew it all by touch. She’d stroked his back, kissed the scars across his torso and with fingers and tongue she’d followed every strong line that made up his hard-worked for frame. There was no need to lie; she was well aware that he had the most attractive body she’d ever seen. Lean and muscled, an expanse of tawny skin; were he anyone else, she would no doubt ogle and drool appropriately. Which is probably why her dream-self had no trouble enjoying herself with his very nice body; however, in real life, Chloe Sullivan did not lust after Oliver Queen.

Taking a deep breath, she told whatever part of that was overreacting to _stop_ and lifted the newspaper toward him. Plucking the world news out and passing it over, he took a seat next to her, leaning back in his chair and perusing the business section. Her eyes betrayed her as they turned and took him in, wandering from the expanse of his shoulders down to his waist, where a line of crisp dark hair disappeared beneath his pants. Biting her lip, she turned away. This really had to stop.

It didn’t.

He had her bent over a desk, her skirt pushed up to her waist. Her hands gripped the opposite edge while her hips bucked in askance. He withheld, however, only using his fingers to please her. Stroking her wet folds and sinking his fingers deep inside her, he kept her on the very cusp of orgasm. Thrusting, massaging, swirling all over; his touch was insistent and intense, knowing her so intimately. Every time she started to shake, he’d draw away, rubbing her thighs until she was back to needing more. She bit her lip so hard she swore she could _taste_ the coppery liquid on her tongue. And as she felt him fall to his knees behind her, she knew it was only going to get worse.

He kissed her; gently, reverently. His soft lips pressed to her clit as if it were the sole star left in the universe. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her spine straightened and his tongue slid up her slit slowly. His hand bunched the fabric of her skirt at the base of her back, his knuckles pressing down against her skin. She shuddered, toes curling against the floor, and whimpered his name.

Suddenly, she was on her back, staring up at him through hooded eyes. He licked his lips clean of her, gripped her thighs and drew her down the desk until she was cradling him, his hard length pressed tight to her heat. She arched up toward him, her nails searching for purchase on the slippery wood of his desk. He stood before her, so proud, so handsome, and she wanted to reach for him, to gather him up against her and sink down on his waiting shaft.

His hand fell to her waist, fingers drawing figure eights around her navel. He grinned, bent to kiss her stomach while his hands slid higher, beneath her top and molding themselves around her breasts. She cried out as his fingers rolled her nipples between them, in time with his tongue swirling in her bellybutton. How she could feel such intense pleasure while he touched her so softly, she didn’t know. And his face, God the expression, it was as if he was saying everything with his eyes and his smile. She could feel it in her chest, an ache in her heart. His hard length brushed against her, settled just where it need to be, and she just knew that the moment he was inside of her, she’d be riding the waves of perfection.

And then it was over; too early, too fast. She was awake, left wanting, desperate and hating every second of it.

That. Was. It.

She set up a meeting with a psychologist for later that afternoon, spent the morning reconsidering, and by four o’clock she was sitting in his office, her knee bouncing wildly. She knew she’d never have gotten in if it weren’t for a little creative talking on her end and a little bribe on the secretary’s. But she was here now and that was all that mattered. Called in to his office, she stared at his credentials suspiciously. When he sat behind his giant desk, peering at her like she was a bug under a microscope, she had to force herself not to snap at him.

“Miss… Lane, was it?”

Chloe smiled. “Yes.”

“Right… I was told you were having some troubles sleeping.” Steepling his fingers, her stared at her with fake concern.

“Well…” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sleeping fine, it’s what happens _when_ I sleep that I’m having trouble with.”

Nodding, his brows furrowed as if he knew what she meant. “Sleep walking? Talking, perhaps?”

“Uh no…” She grimaced. “At least, I dearly hope not.”

“Okay… And can you explain to me what it is that happens?” Picking up a pen, he held it poised over a pad of paper.

“Well…” She took a deep breath. “I’m there in some familiar place, it changes all the time, but I always know it… And _he_ ’s there…”

“He being?” he interrupted.

“Uh… My best friend,” she replied, shifting in her seat with discomfort.

He nodded, though his brow lifted as he was irritated he got no name.

“And he and I are… Well, I mean mostly it’s _him_ but…”

“Miss Lane?” He stared at her impatiently.

“We’re going at it like horny teenagers,” she finally spit out, frowning. “And I mean _really_ going at it. There are positions and situations that I would probably never agree to in real life. Mostly because while I’m bendy, I’m not _that_ bendy.”

He simply nodded. “Right… And?”

“And what?” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you not hear me? This is me and my _best friend_ , he and I aren’t supposed to be doing that. Bumping uglies is for non-friendship-type people…” she exclaimed.

“Is that what bothers you _most_ about the situation?”

“Yes! I mean… Well, I dunno… I mean, when it’s happening, it’s incredible…” She emphasized her meaning with her hands. “But then I wake up and I see him and I feel… guilty. Like I’ve done something wrong or I’m keeping it from him. In fact…” She frowned. “I feel like I’m cheating on him… with _him_.”

Her psychologist simply nodded, writing something or other down.

Was it wrong to already have plans to break into his office and steal her file later that night?

Probably.

Especially since it was under Lois Lane, the name she’d given instead of her own, wanting confidentiality. She was under enough of a spotlight being Oliver’s best friend; she couldn’t let just _anyone_ go looking for this kind of personal stuff.

“Do you have any theories as to _why_ this is happening? What might’ve brought these dreams on?”

Chloe chewed her lip, leaning back in her seat. “Well… About a week or so ago, we were training together. I’d been attacked… nearly raped.” That word always caught in her throat. “And he… He saved me… from… that. And so he wanted to help me get past it, to work out and build up my strength. That way, if it ever happened again, I could save myself…”

“And your dreams started when?”

Her brows furrowed. “After we stopped training…”

“I see…” The psychologist began writing again. “Well… I believe, Miss Lane, that the situation is really quite simple.”

From her point of view, no, it definitely _wasn’t_.

“This best friend of yours appeared in a desperate time of need and he helped you through it. Not only that but he helped give you the tools to keep it from happening again. And now he’s letting you fight your own battles and stepping back. These dreams are just your subconscious mind putting everything together. The rape, a mindless sex act, was thankfully averted, but your own fears involving that will still be high. So instead of facing those fears, you’ve simply put a band-aid on them.” He smiled in what he thought was a sympathetic way. “You’re young and virile and so you put the only safe face you can handle on your dream sex partner; your savior. I think what’s happening here is that you’re ready to go out into the world but you’re relying on old techniques to do so.” Tapping his pen against his chin, he leaned back in his chair. “Often, we as a people put up walls and we only let certain people in. Those people become comfortable and familiar, and so when faced with changing things when we’re not ready, we revert back to what we know.”

Brows cinched, she nodded slowly. “So I’m not in love with my best friend, deep down in a very confusing part of my soul?”

“Did he ever say he loved you in your dreams?”

 _He didn’t have to_. It was written in his face, in his every movement. But that wasn’t the question.

“No.”

“And did you ever say it to him?”

She flushed. “There wasn’t much _talking_ going on.”

He nodded obligingly.

Brows furrowed, she asked again, just to be certain, “So you really think I don’t?”

He laughed lightly. “I don’t think so.”

“My cousin is going to be very upset about this…” she mused.

“Your cousin?”

“Yeah, uh… Chloe…” She smiled slightly. “She thinks me and him should just Harry and Sally it already.”

“Ah, I see.” He blinked. “Well, if you feel this has helped at all, then I certainly think you should return the same time next week and we can see how you’re progressing.”

Standing up from her seat, Chloe nodded. “Right, next week. I’ll, uh, set it up with the secretary.”

No, she wouldn’t. Because there was no way she was making this a regular check-up. As far as she was concerned, the only glitch in her mental makeup had to do with her sudden desire to sleep with her best friend. And now that _that_ was cleared up, she didn’t have anything more to talk about. Sure there were some mommy- and daddy-issues, but she’d live.

Waving goodbye to the secretary, she was happy as she made her way home. And plopping down on the couch, she decided to give Lois a call to let her know the diagnosis.

“Yeah?”

“You know, it might be more proactive if you answered with the name of your paper… or even yourself. That way people don’t think they have the wrong number,” Chloe suggested.

“If _Dumb and Dumber_ don’t know who they’re calling, I don’t need what they’re offering. So? To what do I owe your call?”

“I’ve figured out what was wrong!” she exclaimed proudly.

“Your serious lack of sex life led you to realize your unresolved feelings for Oliver Queen so you finally had mind-blowing sex with him and you had to call and tell me all about it so I could live vicariously through you?”

She blinked. “Uh, no, not… really.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “Fine. What excuse do you have now?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not an excuse. It’s a perfectly logical reason.”

“Lay it on my, cuz.”

And she did, to which her cousin _laughed_.

“Okay, enough with psychobabble. Let me help you in a way this quack so couldn’t…” She paused for effect. “You. _Love_. Oliver.”

“Lois!”

“What? It’s true.”

“I know it’s true,” she replied, “Just not in the way you’re implying.”

“Really? So you don’t want to have hot, crazy, monkey sex with him and have a handful of beautiful blonde babies?”

“No!”

“Liar!”

Chloe sighed. “What do I have to do to get you off this?”

“Sleep with him, tell me it was truly, horrendously awful and I’ll know, for a fact, that you’re not right for each other.”

She snorted incredulously. “That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

“Pfft, not _even!_ Lest I remind you about the time I told you kissing frogs would make your boobs bigger?”

“I was eleven and impressionable!” she exclaimed, scowling.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“I’m done talking to you. I’m going to go hang out with my non-sexual best friend now and not lust after him like you misleadingly think I do!”

“Go do that then,” Lois replied easily. “And remember, when it all changes, I knew before you did!”

“Uh huh. Bye!” She hung up, frowning at the phone with irritation.

She was _not_ in love with Oliver!

Later that night was their usual movie night and while they laughed over bad special effects and horrible acting, she forgot all about any bizarre dreams involving them sexing each other up. Sitting there on the couch, with popcorn between them and the camaraderie she’d always shared with him, she let go of any suspicions Lois had tried to instill in her. They were just Chloe and Oliver, the best of friends. Head on his shoulder and blanket wrapped around them, she could happily deny herself into a frenzy. Listening to his heartbeat, she fell asleep in the middle of the movie, breathing in his warm scent and holding his strong body. This was so much better than any erotic dream _ever_ was.


	17. XVI. Of Partners In Crime and Adrenaline Rushes

******_XVI._ ** _Of Partners In Crime and Adrenaline Rushes_

She should be working on her latest article, even if it only needed some tweaking here or there. But instead, she was hacking into files that made her gut turn and clench. Oliver had come to her, looking disgusted and angry, something that put her on edge immediately. He gave her a name and asked her to look into it and with some trepidation, she did just that. The majority of her detective work was done for the Gazette, and what wasn’t was usually just downtime she spent expanding the reach of her clever fingers. Most of the ‘hero’ work Oliver did was back-alley, stop the muggers type stuff and while she’d worked her butt off to look the part she’d yet to don the outfit in public.

Their latest job, which was anything but their norm, wasn’t anything she was prepared for. What she found when researching Oliver’s mark was utterly revolting; this man, this _doctor_ , was experimenting on people. All in the name of science, she was sure. Excuses. His behavior was despicable; these were human beings being torn to shreds and examined for the _good_ doctor’s tweaked mind. She couldn’t get anything solid on the ‘why’ of his actions, but she could clearly see that there was some malevolent reason, whatever it may be. Nobody looked that happy carving into someone with a saw…

As Oliver stepped into her apartment, using the key she’d had made up for her, she sat forward grimacing. “This is beyond disturbing.”

For a fraction of a second she had to wonder if it was sad that the only person who could _possibly_ be at her house was Oliver. Maybe she needed to make more friends.

But then he was standing there, shrugging his jacket off and looking haggard, and all of her attention turned to him.

Sighing, he nodded. “I’ve seen some of the footage…” Taking a seat at the edge of her bed, he shook his head. “We have to do something.”

“Like what?” Dropping her laptop to the side and crawling over to sit next to him, she frowned darkly. “Ollie, this is something worthy of a SWAT sting… We’re not equipped to handle this.”

They stopped burglaries and occasionally returned stolen, black market goods. At no point had she considered the idea that she would be infiltrating some sick doctor’s playground to be the righteous savior. In all honesty, she hadn’t yet gotten past the part where she wore a disguise and tackled the bad guy.

The determined look on his face told her he wasn’t going to accept that. “We could be.”

She should have argued more, pointed out all the reasons they should call FBI or the police or _someone_ who would be able to put the man behind bars. But then she’d just spent hours researching Dr. J. Cedwine and he had been one slippery bastard from the start. Hiring the best of the best in lawyers, he had to have some serious backers for him to keep getting away with the things he had. And those were just a fraction of the indecency she’d witnessed of late.

So that was that; she may have had her reservations, but no way was she about to walk away. If there was nobody else out there who could or would do what needed to be done, that left them.

“What’s the plan?”

Turning, he half-grinned at her, proud and appreciative that whatever came at them, she had his back.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

…

Getting the schematics was harder than she thought it would be, but eventually she had the layout of the building printed out and she and Oliver were able to plan an in and out route. The nineteen-floor building looked innocent enough from the outside, housing numerous different small businesses on the lower floors. It was the top four that were restricted to only Cedwine and related workers. From what she could tell, the first floor was a ruse, looking like any regular doctor’s waiting room, except that it was built in such a modern high-class state that it was clinically disturbing. Becoming a client was apparently impossible, although upon passing by, she did note that there were people there. A smoke-screen, she realized. The same people, every day. Paid to be there and look the part, but not really there for any services.

The second floor was dominated by a surgical area, housing everything any maniacal mad-scientist might need. There was a locked room on the right where Oliver deduced the files were stored; an explanation hopefully hidden in its depths. The third floor was all patients; who they were and where they came from, unknown. But they were sedated 24/7, until being moved down to the third floor for examination and certain death. And lastly, the fourth floor housed the morgue, where bodies both taken apart and still together were left in the deep-freeze until they were moved and removed from the building entirely. A helipad on the roof was used for transporting corpses without raising suspicions and Chloe couldn’t help the sick understanding that it was all so easy for them.

Given that this was their first real foray into the ‘super’ part in superhero business, they were careful. Any and all ties that might link them to what they were planning were invisible. Even when she passed by the office for a look, she’d been wearing a disguise and hadn’t used her real name. It was time to break into a high security building, find out what the folders had to say and do what had to be done.

…

She was shaking.

She hated that she was actually scared but she couldn’t help it.

Pacing his office in her white uniform, she probably looked ridiculous. He was going over the schematics again, even though she knew he had them memorized. She’d taped the security footage too so they’d have the guard’s timed routes down and could move with all haste and ease.

“We’ll be fine,” he told her without lifting his eyes.

“We could get caught… and wind up on those metal tables as the next experiment.”

He cocked a brow. “They won’t lay a finger on you, I promise.”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes and crossed to his desk. “This isn’t just me, Oliver… If at any point you get into trouble, do you really think I’m turn my back on you?”

Looking up at her, his lips pursed. “The city could be on the verge of blowing up and you’d stay with me even if I wanted to watch the last big bang…” He said it so casually and she couldn’t argue. “And as much as I want to tell you that if I get caught, you should run, I can’t. Because it’d be hypocritical of me to order you to do what I know I won’t.”

Her lips softened into a smile. “It’s not just us, either. There are people up there and we have to get them out.”

He smirked. “And we will.”

One of these days, she might really dislike his arrogance. But today wasn’t that day.

“Have I told you lately that you fill out your outfit magnificently?” he asked, cocking a brow.

She snorted. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?”

Grinning, she admitted, “A little.”

Standing up, he circled his desk to stand in front of her and reached out to take one of her hands. Lifting it above her head, he made her do a little circle. “Looking very scary, Sunshine.”

With a scoff, she glared witheringly at him. “I’m starting to rethink the color. I’m almost afraid to get dirty in this.”

“White is purity…” His smile softened. “The light to my dark…”

Squeezing his hand in hers, she shook her head. “The only darkness going on is what we’re fighting…” Grinning, she winked at him. “So put your game face on, Arrow.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he nodded. “Let’s do this.”

…

Everything happened in a blur.

Sitting on the back of his green and black bike, her thighs wrapped around him, her arms encircling his waist, she grimaced. “What happened to the safety of cars with four doors and a floor that separated them from cement?”

She could hear his laughter through the mic in his helmet. “Live a little, Sunshine.” He took a sharp corner and she squeezed him in response. Despite her terror, she had to admit, the world around her was almost exotic, flashing by in colors and blurred by speed. There was a freedom to their ride that she hadn’t known before. Though the pavement didn’t look anywhere near soft and spilling across it wasn’t something she planned to do anytime soon, she couldn’t deny that having Oliver at the forefront was always calming. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them; it was a fact.

So, slowly she relaxed. Her body was still pressed tight against his, but she didn’t feel the need to choke the air right out of him. Focusing more on the smooth ride and the ease with which he handled his bike, she felt her stomach unclench and her nerves loosen.

And then the building was in sight and she was filled with nervous excitement.

Some innocent part of her wanted to run away and not face the seriousness of the situation. But a much larger part, one that was truly disgusted by the actions of the doctor, wanted justice for those people. It was that voice she focused on; the one that told her she had to do the right thing, whatever the situation or consequence.

He parked a few blocks down the road, hid his bike in the shadows of the alley, and then turned to her. “Your earpiece is on?” he asked, even as his hand slid beneath her hood to touch her ear for proof.

“Yes, _dad_ ,” she muttered, rolling her eyes behind her tinted glasses.

He smirked. “Remind me to give you a codename next time.”

She frowned. After all their planning, _that_ was what they forgot!

“It’s okay… We’ll work around it.” He lifted a shoulder. “There’re only two of us anyway.”

Kneeling in the shadows of the alley, Oliver watched the street for civilians.

“Fire escape?” he asked.

“Left side of the building,” she rattled off. They’d practiced this. If they were going in, they had to know everything. “Pull down ladder, climb to the fifteenth floor, sneak in the window. It’s always left open a crack; it won’t be hard to get unhinged. Avoid stairs and open hallways; use the vents to get to the seventeenth floor. There’s an opening in the hallway between the lab and the secured room that we’re assuming holds the answer to this entirely wrong mystery… Hack the security pad, get the folders, get out, move to the eighteenth floor, check for stats and living patients…” She paused, glancing at him. “You have the adrenaline?”

He gave a short nod. “Packed and ready.”

“I still don’t know how we’re going to get all those people out of there. They’ll be groggy and useless in a fight.”

He grinned. “We just have to get them to the roof.”

Uncertain, she bit her lip. “If you’re sure…”

“Have I ever failed you?” he asked cockily.

She scoffed at his ego, but she couldn’t argue.

Standing up, he turned to her and flicked on his voice distorter. “You ready?” he asked, his tone deep and dark.

She saluted him in response and then they were off; to save lives and ruin a mad doctor.

…

Fingers locked together, Oliver held his flat hands out for her to put her foot in as a boost. Hands on his shoulders, she stepped into him, hopped up and wrapped her hands around the last wrung of the ladder as he launched her up a few feet. With a creak of protest, the ladder slid down enough for him to catch hold of. Climbing up, she glanced back to see him following. While he watched the street, she kept her eyes on the upper floors, checking for any lights coming on or people looking out their windows. They rushed to the fourteenth floor without problem and while she hated to admit it, all those drills she’d had with Oliver to get her in shape had really helped.

Kneeling by the window, Oliver slid his fingers beneath the space of the open window and pulled up. It gave a groan of protest but with a little maneuvering and flexing of his hard-won muscles, he got it up.

“So you _do_ come in handy occasionally,” she muttered cheekily as she climbed inside the empty office.

With a dry laugh, he climbed in after her and lowered the window back down to the same level it had been.

Quietly, they padded across the room and pressed their ears to the door to listen for anybody in the outside hallway. Met with silence, they stepped out and surveyed the area. Silently, Oliver pointed to the above vent and with a grimace, Chloe nodded. As he knelt, she climbed onto his shoulders and ducked as he stood up. Fingers through the small metal holes, she lifted the vent cover off and popped her head inside. Pulling a flashlight from her pocket, she moved it to and fro to make sure there were no blockages.

“Looks just like the blueprints said it would,” she whispered.

“Good. Hopefully the weight capacity stays true too,” he muttered. Anchoring his hands beneath her feet, he held her steady as she hauled herself up inside and slid down the vent on her stomach before dragging her legs in behind her. On knees and elbows, she crawled down the vent to the end and waited for him to follow after her. Flashlight in her teeth, she looked around the left corner and eyed the way the vent turned upward. As she heard the vent cover put back in place, she turned to see Oliver’s long body and wise shoulder maneuvering toward her.

Crawling around the corner, she lifted up onto her knees and slowly stood but found herself just a few inches short of the height requirement. Frowning, she whispered into her mic, “Wanna be my stepping ladder?”

“ _Want_ isn’t the word I’d use,” he replied, but moments later, he crawled between her legs and awaited her weight on his back. Now easily able to get up, she pulled herself through and kept crawling, acknowledging his presence behind her without so much as a glance.

It was his hand on her ankle that made her pause. Stopping, she cocked her head, listening.

Voices, footsteps, people were moving just beneath them. And as quiet as they’d been, moving on their knees and elbows wasn’t completely silent.

Chloe felt sweat accumulating on the back of her neck as she waited impatiently for the guards to move on. She wondered if the fear would ever fade; if one day she’d be as calm as Oliver was. As if he knew she was scared, his thumb rubbed soothing circles on her ankle. And in response her body began to loosen and her heart slowed its thick staccato. She was safe; he was there; nothing would happen to them.

And then all was quiet again and his rubbing turned to a tap. Taking her cue, she started moving again. They had another floor to climb before they’d be on the one they wanted. Going through the same problem before where she had to use him as her stepping stone, she was able to get to the center of the hallway between the two rooms without any interruptions this time.

He waved her down a few feet and then removed the vent lid, watching to see if anybody would pass by. When nobody did, he ducked his head down and looked both left and right, apparently finding it empty as he then dropped down to his feet. Crawling after him, she let go as his hands gripped her waist and helped her to the floor. With a tilt of his chin, he motioned to the lab room, marked “Dr. J Cedwine – Surgery.”

Lips twisting in a sneer, Chloe turned to the left and focused on the security pad in front of her. Carefully popping the plastic cover off, she dragged out a pair of pliers and got to work on the wires. Standing guard at her back, Oliver listened for any interference and kept his sharp eyes out for guards. As the red light turned green, they were granted access and stepped into a room swollen with grey filing cabinets stuffed to capacity; knowing just what must be said inside, her stomach rolled. How many people had been used here?

Putting her immediate anger aside, she crossed to the closest cabinet and began going through it. With Oliver to her right, they were each going through folder after folder, scanning papers as they went. There was so much though and she didn’t think they could go through it all.

“Get the worst of the worst and anything with specific names,” he told her.

Doing as he said, she fingered through papers looking for whatever incriminating dealings Cedwine had locked away, but soon she had an armful and she wasn’t sure what to toss and what to keep. Crossing to the corner, Oliver grabbed a box with a few stray folders inside and brought it over. “Fill it,” he said and then began putting his own ‘worst of the worst’ inside. She had to wonder how they were going to maneuver the box around with them, but didn’t question his methods.

Putting a stop to it when the box was ready to overspill, they drew back and walked to the door. Hearing no interference in the halls, Oliver stepped out first, his bow at the ready, and then nodded for her to follow. Carrying the overwhelming load of files, her arms protested. “Wanna trade, Big Leather?” she asked.

He glanced back at her with a smirk. “Flex your feminist side.”

Pursing her lips at him, she rolled her eyes.

When they reached the stairs, which he checked to make sure were empty, he took the box from hands and easily anchored it to his side with one arm. “You’ve got your tranq gun?” he asked her.

“Ready and waiting,” she assured, tugging it from its locked place on her thigh holster.

Climbing up the stairs to the eighteenth floor, they paused on either side of the door, ears pressed to hear any of the guards.

Oliver checked his watch. “11:54, where should they be?”

Chloe thought back to the security cameras, her lips pursing. “Guard Six should be on his way to the vending machine; midnight munchies. Guard Seven will be in the bathroom, if he sticks to his bladder’s schedule.”

Listening a little longer, they snuck into the hallway and Chloe watched as Oliver stopped next to a sleeping patient and tucked the box of files beneath his bed. With a nod of his head, he asked her to follow him.

“Vending is to the left, washroom’s to the right,” she murmured.

Turning around, he squeezed her shoulder and then went down the right hallway.

Guessing she was to take out Guard Seven, she crept around the corner and silently made her way toward the row of vending machines.

“Goddamit, I wanted M&M’s, you piece of shit… Man, I hate Reese’s Pieces…”

Despite his grumbling, she could distinctly hear him tearing open the plastic baggie. Tranq gun in hand, she carefully snuck up on him, only realizing her mistake as her reflection was clear in the front of the vending machine. However, as the guard turned, she took her shot, and winced as he hit the ground heavily.

“Guard Seven is down,” Oliver’s distorted voice said in her ear.

Touching her ear, she opened her side of the comm. “Guard Six too,” she replied.

Blinking at the unmoving mass of human on the floor, Chloe found she wasn’t disturbed by what she had done. He would eventually wake and maybe he deserved the headache that would follow for hiding something as disturbing as he was. With that, she turned and left, meeting up with Oliver in the main hallway once more.

“We need to get these people up,” he said, eyes wandering over the expanse of immobile people. Checking his watch, he shook his head. “How many?”

“Nine.”

“We’ve got ten minutes, at best.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but when given a time limit she didn’t want to procrastinate and so she took the bottle of liquid adrenaline he handed her and perused the shelves for needles. While she took the left side, he took the right. Disposing of each needle after she’d pumped her patients with enough to rouse them, she stood back and waited anxiously.

Oliver’s foot was tapping as he glanced from the people to his watch.

It felt like hours.

Seconds ticked by, and then somebody moved, a foot twitched. Drowsy, a woman sat up, her hand rising to her head. With all the drugs pumped into her body to keep her sleeping, her system was fighting back and forth. Chloe reached for her, steadying her.

“Listen very carefully,” Chloe said in a stern but gentle tone. “We have to get you out of this place… You need to stay quiet and follow us and we’ll get you to a hospital.”

Her eyes were suddenly wide, scared, as she looked to and fro. “Where am I? Oh my god, where is he?” Frantic, she gripped Chloe’s shoulders. “He’s not a doctor… Or-Or he’s not a good one. I don’t- I don’t know, but he was doing things…” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You have to help me, please.”

Chloe nodded. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you out of here.” Glancing down at the shaking woman, she asked, “Can you walk?”

“I… I don’t know… I think so.” Carefully, she moved her unsteady legs to the floor and tried her best. She was shaky and it would take some help, but she’d be able to move.

Soon the other eight patients were waking up and after explaining to the whole of them that they were going to be leaving and that their two masked saviors knew the doctor wasn’t as expected, they started moving.

“We have to get to the roof,” Oliver told them as he steadied patient after patient who walked slowly toward the stairs. With Chloe at the front, she told them to use the rail for balance and hurried upstairs to get the roof door open. By the time they reached her, she’d already hacked the security system and had the door open. As they piled onto to the helipad, they waited anxiously, looking everywhere as if they expected Dr. Cedwine to jump out from around the corner. And then there was a noise from above and she tipped her head back to see an emergency helicopter making a landing right in front of them.

How in the hell did he…?

Suddenly, Oliver was at her back. “Surprised?”

She smirked. “And a little proud.”

Grinning, he crossed the roof to the helicopter. As the door slid open, Oliver placed the files on the floor behind the pilot and then began helping load people inside. Chloe hurried over to help those who’d been unable to keep standing and were now slumped on the ground. It took only minutes to get them all inside and know that they were finally in good hands.

The woman who’d first woken up lurched forward and grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Thank you!” she exclaimed tearfully, looking from her to Oliver. “Thank you!”

Chloe smiled and then stepped back as in a flurry, the door was closed and the helicopter left to bring its patients to Star City General.

“Job well done,” Oliver said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, and now we just have to get out of here.”

As if she’d hit an alarm, the door behind them leading to the building exploded open and the guards from the sixteenth, seventeenth and nineteenth floors were rushing them, guns at the ready.

Oliver sighed. “Maybe next time we’ll take them _all_ out…”

“You’re assuming there will _be_ a next time,” she muttered.

“Show us your hands!” one of the guards yelled, eyeing them warily.

“We’ve got two choices… We either take them on one-on-one and hopefully win… or we make a break for it.”

Chloe grimaced. “Do you _ever_ leave your grapple hook at home?”

He smirked.

And with her heart pumping, Chloe took a deep breath.

As soon as their feet started moving, bullets flew.

Oliver leapt off the top of the nineteen floor building without so much as a flinch, his arms spread and the green of his leather outfit making him look like the avenging angel she knew him to be. She didn’t look back, drowned out the noise of ricocheting bullets, and jumped. Right into his awaiting arms. He caught her as she fell, wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted the other to release the grapple hook. As it caught something in the distance and the rope fell taut, they swung away from danger.

The breeze was cool against her face, the lights bright and the world busy beneath their feet.

Hugging him tight, she wrapped her legs around his waist for better leverage and then closed her eyes.

Her heart rung loud in her ears and her lungs were tight as she came down off her adrenaline high.

Some part of her couldn’t believe what just happened, what they’d just done, while another part was screaming with pride.

All her life she thought she’d be the infamous investigative reporter and she _was_ , but it wasn’t all of her. Now she was also a hero; somebody who did what others wouldn’t, who saved those who thought themselves sentenced to death. Breathing in, she was filled with the scent of Oliver; of man and sweat and an undertone of sandalwood and leather. Her partner, her best friend, most likely the only person alive who could share this with her.

Maybe she was just as lucky as those people they’d given salvation too. Her own was in her arms.


	18. XVII. Of Trips Away and Long Distance Phone Bills

 

 **XVII.** _Of Trips Away and Long Distance Phone Bills_

He really didn’t like this. At all.

Business trips often took at least a week, meaning while he was halfway around the world, Chloe was back in Star City. She had her own job to deal with and so she couldn’t tag along to relieve him of any boredom brought on my Queen Industries business. And really, if she had they wouldn’t have much time together anyway. Work was hectic, he was stuck in meetings from sun up to sun down, trying to close a deal with associates that asked every question twice and still weren’t satisfied.

Sitting in his hotel room, having given up on TV and unable to fall asleep, he pulled his cell out and pushed one on his speed-dial. Given the time difference, she’d just be getting off work; if she managed to draw herself away from the Gazette that is. Just as she’d been before he became a permanent fixture in her life, she jumped right back into her workaholic tendencies whenever he left town. Without him there to draw her away from her laptop, she became glued to it.

“Sullivan,” she answered distractedly.

He could hear the distinct click-clack of her fingers on the keyboard and couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You do realize your work day ends at five, right?”

She laughed lightly. “A reporter’s duty is never truly done.”

“If by that you mean your curiosity sees no end, then I agree.”

She snickered. “What are you doing up? It’s… really, _really_ late out there.”

“I’m still buzzing from work,” he muttered, running a hand over his hair and rubbing his face. “What’s going on there?”

“A Tetris contest,” she replied wryly. “What do you _think_ is going on?”

He grinned. “So you’re working until carpel tunnel sets in?”

“Of course.” She chuckled lightly. “If it’s any consolation, I can feel my wrists cramping already.”

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Yeah, that just made my day.”

“I got your e-mail and I’ve written back accordingly,” she added.

Glancing at his laptop sitting booted down on the complimentary desk, he decided to read it later. “And in between work and writing me, you’ve…?”

“Worked some more,” she admitted. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Really? Because I would think that your knowing would make you _stop_ already and take a breather.”

She scoffed. “So I work too much, as if you’re the poster boy for relaxation.”

Pursing his lips, he tutted, “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah… I’ll vacay when _you_ do.”

“How clear is your schedule around June?” he teased.

“Given it’s, oh, _February_ , I think I might be able to make some space for you… I’m a very busy woman, however. So if I have to brush you off and instead attend Cabo _without_ you, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Grinning, he laughed under his breath. “And I suppose you’ll need my jet to _get_ to Cabo?”

“As if I could be bothered with airport security,” she muttered, feigning disdain.

“I’m surprised they haven’t blacklisted you yet,” he mused.

“If they did, I’d only erase their file.” With a sigh, he heard her chair move as she was no doubt stretching from a long time sitting at her desk. “Okay… I’m packing up and going home… And then I’m going to take a long shower, gorge on dinner and watch Jeopardy without you.”

Oliver tucked his arm over his chest. “Good… I’m gonna read your email, reply, and then I should probably get some sleep.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“’Kay. Love you, bye.”

“Love you too.”

After hanging up, Oliver tossed his phone to the side and crossed the room to grab his laptop. Booting it up, he put it on the bed as he undressed from his stiff work clothes. Tossing them over the back of a sofa to be sent out for dry cleaning, he climbed back into his bed wearing only his boxers and settled in with the pillows at his back. Accessing his email account, he ignored the many business related emails and instead opened the latest from Chloe.

 **From** : c.sullivan@starcitygazette.com  
**To** : oliver.queen@queenindustries.org  
**Subject** : Re:

Hey,

Do you have any idea how weird it is to go to a coffee shop on a Wednesday without you on my arm? The lady at the counter thought we had a falling out. You miss _one_ Wednesday and suddenly the friendship between us has apparently dissolved. In any case, I tried a pumpkin spice cappuccino and I’d rate it an 8.5… You’ll have to have one when you get back since you now owe me a Wednesday.

As of lunch, I’ve written three articles, completed the morning crossword puzzle, spilled coffee on my new blouse, and (drum roll, please) was hit on not once, but _twice_ by the new mail boy. Oh, and I found one of the interns making out with Gary the copy guy… ew. In any case, if you haven’t noticed, I’m disturbingly bored. However, Jim is looking my way and I think he knows I’m not working, so I’m going to save this draft and add more later. ;)

…

So it’s now three and yes, I actually completely missed my lunch. Don’t fret, however, as I found a powerbar in my purse… I can’t say it’s not past its expiry date, but so far I’m still alive, so fingers crossed. We have a lead on the underfunded elementary school in south Star City, so I might be working overtime tonight. If I take it home, I can _eat_ though and… See, now I’m rambling in emails and you’re not even here. You’ll probably be up to all hours of the night and when you call me, you’ll tell me _I’m_ a workaholic. Pot meet kettle, buddy.

In answer to your questions, yes I’ve been keeping an eye on the streets for you but I really don’t think donning your suit will work… I’m a little bustier than you, not to mention almost a foot shorter… Did I happen to tell you that Jim’s offering a pricy reward for anybody who can snap pictures of you? It’s a good thing you’re not here since the heat is on heavy this week. Maybe it’ll die down by the time you get back.

Ooh, somebody just brought in donuts… Remind me to take a run later, the glazed jelly-filled is calling my name.

I’ll call you later.

Love you,

Chloe  
  
  
Hitting reply, Oliver grinned at the screen as his fingers typed wildly.  
 

 **From** : oliver.queen@queenindustries.org  
**To** : c.sullivan@starcitygazette.com  
**Subject** : Re: Re:

Hey Sunshine,

It is now… 3:36am here… We just hung up the phone.

1\. I can’t believe you went to the coffee shop _without_ me. (scoff!) Granted, I didn’t expect you to give up coffee _completely_ , but to have our tradition sans me is very painful indeed.

2\. What did you get for four across? Everything I thought of was too long to fit. I don’t think this is fair given you _work_ at the newspaper. How do I know you’re not cheating?

3\. Isn’t the new mail boy like sixteen? What is it with you and the _youngins_? (LOL)

4\. A powerbar is hardly enough sustenance to get you through the day. I’m adding you to that meals-on-wheels list and they’ll deliver your food to you on a daily basis. Don’t fight me on this!

5\. It was the principal, wasn’t it? He looks shady to me! He’s probably been filching from the school for ages. I remember the charity event we had for it two years ago, no way they went through that budget already.

6\. Do they have workaholic meetings we could go to together? Maybe we can carpool…

7\. Admittedly, you wearing my suit while I’m away wasn’t very well thought out… Mostly, I focused on the idea of you in green leather and it seemed like a smart idea… ;) How pricy? Maybe you can get a new blouse with the rewards when I get back. Try not to spill coffee on that one, clumsy.

8\. Yoga isn’t the same without you… And I won’t bother reminding you to go for that run, we both know you won’t. When I get back, we’ll make up for lost time.

One more day and night, Sunshine. Fingers crossed I’ll be home before breakfast day after tomorrow.

Love you too.

Sending the email, Oliver stifled a yawn and closed down his laptop before putting it back on his desk. Tomorrow was hopefully going to be the last day of negotiations and then he could head back home on his jet. Crawling back into his bed, he hugged the blankets tight around his shoulders and looked forward to Chloe’s enthusiastic welcome back. Over the last few years, he found time away from her left him feeling lonely. Phone calls and emails helped but it wasn’t the same as having her right there in front of him. He’d be happy when he was home and could take his lunches with her across from him, smiling and teasing him as usual.

He fell asleep thinking of her laughter and peace overcame all the tedious stress of the last week.

…

It was nearly midnight when he packed his last suitcase, a grin so wide his face hurt. The jet was waiting for him and a town car was on its way to pick him up. At this rate, he’d be home by the time Chloe got off work. He was already planning where to take her for dinner when his cell rang. Reaching for it, he flipped it open and said in a cheerful voice, “Queen.”

“I’ll take ‘Coming home’ for two-hundred, Alex,” Chloe replied.

He laughed. “You’d be right.”

“Fantastic. I expect a certified check upon your arrival.”

Snorting, he zipped the last of his suitcase and turned it over so the wheels touched the floor. “How about dinner instead? Rocco will be happy to feed us until we burst.”

“Ooh…” she hummed. “Yes, definitely.”

“Great.” Checking his watch, he nodded. “I’ll be a few hours yet, but with the time difference…”

“Are you sure you won’t be jetlagged? We can always have dinner when you’re more rested up.”

He shook his head, despite the fact that she couldn’t see him. “No way. I can sleep later. I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I’m very missable,” she agreed lightheartedly.

“Terribly.”

“I think it’s part of my charm. Built in, really.”

“Maybe we should have the doctor check it out… It could be interrupting my work ethic.”

She laughed. “Please, you work too hard and too much, despite my winsome personality.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’d take you over business any day, Sunshine.”

“Be still my heart.”

Before he could reply there was a knock at the door. His brows furrowed as he crossed the room. “My ride must be here,” he muttered.

However, when he opened the door, he found a woman leaning against the door frame, holding a bottle of champagne and a couple glasses, grinning at him suggestively. “Hey,” she greeted, “I thought since it was your last night in town you might want to celebrate…”

By the low tone of her voice, the scooped neckline of her dress, and the way she angled her hips at him, he knew exactly what kind of _celebrating_ she was suggesting.

Chloe laughed in his ear. “That’s her opening line? What community college does she hail from?’

He snorted but pursed his lips to cover it. “Sorry, uh… This is awful, but in the hectic schedule of late, I can’t remember your name…” he admitted.

She wasn’t the least bit put out. “Oksana,” she told him. “Executive assistant to Mister Gregoir.”

“A secretary,” Chloe muttered. “Blonde, brunette or red head?”

“Brunette,” he said quietly.

Oksana’s brows furrowed. “Sorry?” she asked.

“Uh, nothing, just a, uh, tickle… in my throat.”

With a winsome smile, Oksana raised the glasses and champagne. “All the more reason for a toast then…” She looked him up and down. “I don’t know about you, but this last week has just been _overwhelming_ …” She shrugged her shoulder purposefully, letting the thin straps of her dress dangle precariously down her arm.

“Yeah, it definitely has,” he agreed, eyes taking in the slope of her tanned arms. “Which is why I had my jet fueled and ready for home… So, I should probably be, uh… heading there… now.”

Chuckling softly, Oksana stepped closer. “Well that’s the great part about owning your own jet, isn’t it? You call the shots.” Reaching out, she fingered his tie, rubbing her thumb along the silk. “One drink and then… we’ll let things fall where they may, huh?”

“Well, this is starting to feel like third-wheel voyeur stuff,” Chloe muttered. “We’ll have dinner tomorrow, okay? Have fun, enjoy yourself… and I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Wait—“ He argued, drawing back from Oksana and focusing on his phone.

“Oliver,” she sighed, laughter light in her voice. “You have a beautiful woman begging to get into your bed… I may be a lot of things, but I believe I gave up guarding your chastity belt the same night we met.”

A smile quirked his lips. “Right, okay… Look, just keep your night open, all right?”

“I’ve got work to catch up on anyway. Now get off the phone and put the charming man I know and love back in the game.”

“Yeah, sure… Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As he hung up, he turned back to the expectant woman in front of him and then grinned, sighing to himself.

…

Chloe walked into her kitchen, dressed for success in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt that was once Oliver’s. Not in the mood to cook, she’d tossed a frozen bowl of lasagna into the microwave to reheat. Waiting for the ding that would let her know her less-than-stellar dinner was ready, she pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. Her only two options were either more work or watching reruns on TV, of which the last week had consisted of, so she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her plans.

When a knock could be heard at the door, her brow furrowed. Hardly anybody knew where she lived and the only one who really visited had his own key. Walking down the short hall to her front door quietly, she undid the lock and drew the door open a few inches, only to find her sight filled with bright, fragrant tulips. Blinking, she opened the door wider and stepped back for a better view.

Oliver’s head peeked out from behind them, grinning. “You know, Rocco’s is pretty casual but I thought you might dress up a little more,” he teased, taking in her wardrobe.

Chloe laughed. “I thought you’d be a few more hours, if you even got home tonight. That secretary sounded like she wanted you all to herself for a day or two of sweaty jungle gym.”

Nodding, he smirked. “Nice image.” Holding the flowers out for her, he shrugged. “And she wasn’t my type. I left the hotel like five minutes after we talked. Luggage in toe and Oksana, the very nice executive assistant, well on her way to finding someone else to warm her bed.” Clapping his hands together, he raised his brows. “Little green dress and some nice heels and we can head over to Rocco’s for dinner… I’ve waited a week and a very long plane ride for this, so don’t disappoint.”

Rolling her eyes, Chloe inhaled the sweet scent of her flowers and then smiled at him. “Gimme ten minutes.”

Turning around, she hurried back inside and toward her bedroom. She already had her dress picked up and the disappointment of earlier was long gone. There was a lighthearted warmth that filled her chest now that he was back. She couldn’t wait for them to return to things as usual; just him, her, and the world at their fingertips. Things just weren’t the same when he wasn’t there beside her. And besides, if he was gone much longer she’d never be able to pay off her long distance bill. She’d bring it up as a joke but she just knew that if she did, he’d get around her and start paying off her cell bill without telling her. She loved and appreciated him, but she was a self-supporting woman and whether he was worth billions or pennies, she didn’t need his money. If it meant spending her last dime just to hear him from half way across the world, she would have done it.

“Hey, if I get the pizza and you get pasta, you wanna go halfsies?” he asked from the living room.

Chloe laughed. “Sure… And tomorrow, you, me and a pumpkin spice cappuccino, right?”

He scoffed. “I still can’t believe you went without me. Wound me deeply, Sunshine!”

Zipping up her dress and slipping on her shoes, she smiled. Now that he was back, all was right in her world.


	19. XVIII. Of Thieving Blurs and Innocent Crushes

 

 **_XVIII._ ** _Of Thieving Blurs and Innocent Crushes_

The first time he thought he noticed something less than normal he had been on his phone. On his way to work, taking Main Street and crossing at 8th to stop at the corner for a newspaper, Oliver caught something out of the corner of his eye. A blur; what looked almost like… _red sneakers_ flying by. And then a hotdog, which _was_ in a vendor’s hand, and then… _gone_. He thought, for a moment, that maybe it was just in his head and he was still tired. But he’d been up a few hours, doing yoga with Chloe and enjoying a cup of coffee with a half a bagel for breakfast. His mind rarely played tricks on him, and so with narrowed eyes and suspicion hovering, he decided he’d be on the lookout for red sneakers in future.

Upon getting to work, the blur was nearly forgotten. He had paperwork up to his ears to focus on and not a moment to spare.

He didn’t see it again for two weeks.

The second time, he was reaching for a business magazine, spotting the Gazette next to it and smiling as he zeroed in on Chloe’s name. There was a whoosh of air next to him and he turned. Red sneakers, a blur of a figure and a man soon missing a glazed donut. Now, Oliver’s interest was really piqued. Whoever it was, he was faster than anybody would consider normal, and had a bad habit of stealing food from others. With a shake of his head, Oliver paid for his magazine and continued walking to work. He’d figure out the mystery yet.

That Friday, he was on his way home from work, cell phone in hand.

“Can you pick me up some gum?” Chloe asked.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Where _are_ you?”

“At your place.”

Shaking his head, he grinned. “Then why are you calling me on your cell phone?”

“It’s nearly the end of the month and I wanna use up the last of my minutes,” she explained nonchalantly. “So? Gum?”

“What kind?”

He could see the newsstand up ahead, and a figure sitting a few feet from it, back against the brick wall of a building.

Red sneakers with a yellow lightening bolt stitched on the side tapped impatiently on the ground.

“—but then I really like Big Red, too…”

“What?” Oliver asked, suddenly realizing he’d zoned out on her and focused on the suspicious footwear.

Chloe sighed. “Work still on your mind?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, gaze searching for a face to the usually-blurred culprit.

“Okay… So I’ve decided on Juicy Fruit… Or Big Red… I’m not partial.”

He laughed lightly. “Got it. I’ll pick it up and be home in about a half hour.”

“Sounds good.”

When they hung up, he picked up his pace. This was his chance to see just who it was, but as he got closer, they stood and suddenly, it was just a blur and a missing Pepsi and corndog. Muttering under his breath, Oliver stopped at the stand and picked up a pack of either gum Chloe wanted and began setting up a plan to catch the elusive thief.

Over the next week, he monitored how often the thieving blur frequented the one corner and found that it was usually between 7 and 7:30 in the mornings or 5:30 and 6 in the afternoons. If it wasn’t for Oliver deciding to walk to work more often of late, he wouldn’t have caught on. He’d yet to see the man’s face but with each passing day, he came closer and closer.

The following Thursday, he invited Chloe along.

Standing on the opposite side of the road, she blinked up at him. “What are we doing?” she asked with a sigh. “I have to be at work in ten minutes.”

“Just give me two,” he said, eyes set on the coffee stand. “Watch… You’ll see…”

Pursing her lips, she turned her head back and stared at the corner of the street across from them.

Seconds and then minutes ticked by without anything of interest.

“Oliver, I really—“

And then, there it was; a movement so quick it looked like a flash of a person. All she saw was red near the pavement and then… a woman crying out in surprise as her breakfast sandwich seemed to vanish into thin air. Brows furrowed, Chloe’s mouth gaped for a moment. “What the…”

Oliver grinned triumphantly. “I know!”

Blinking rapidly, she shook her head. “So wait… There’s a person out there who can run at like the speed of light and he uses it to filch food off unsuspecting people?”

He frowned. “So he’s not the nicest of superheroes, but—“

She scoffed. “Superhero? More like Super-Thief! Oliver, this guy, whoever he is, doesn’t look like he wants to use his powers for the greater good…”

“We don’t _know_ that…” Sighing, he shrugged. “If I could get him to slow down for a second and just _talk_ to him…”

Despite her disagreeable attitude, Chloe patted his arm. “Look, I trust you and your instincts. So if you happen to slow this guy down and talk him into playing for the good guys, I’ll gladly meet him. But just be careful!” Lifting up on her tip-toes, she kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you later. Have a good day at work.” And with that, she was off down the street, toward the Gazette.

Oliver nodded absently to himself. Now he just needed to find a way to stop a guy who moved too quick for usual tactics…

It took him two weeks to figure out a trap.

Food.

He’d monitored the man’s favorites and then he equipped himself with what he’d want. Standing on the sidewalk, seemingly preoccupied with his magazine, he held his food aloft innocently. And by 7:22, the thief came calling. Oliver saw the blur before the food was touched and he drew his leg back just in time. Preoccupied with Oliver’s offering, he hadn’t noticed the very thin rope tightening just in time to trip him and send him tumbling, the filled to the brim taco salad splattering all over the pavement next to him.

Surprised, the boy hurried to get up off the ground and run away.

“Wait!” Oliver shouted. “Just…” He held his hands up in a show of peace. “I just want to talk.”

The boy, who couldn’t be more than sixteen, a hell of a lot younger than Oliver had expected, stared at him suspiciously. “Look, dude, I’m _hungry_ , but I don’t swing that way.”

Oliver snorted. “Yeah, me neither, kid.” He glanced around at the crowded area. “We can stop at a diner and talk; I _just_ want to talk… You can leave any time you think I’m acting shady.”

Lips pursed, the boy rose slowly, brushing himself off. Oliver nodded, half-smiling as he lifted his leg to untie the rope from around it, showing how he managed to stop him.

“Clever,” the boy muttered, rolling his eyes.

Oliver smirked. “Occasionally.”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he nodded toward him. “So? Whaddya want?”

“Have you ever considered using those running skills for something a little less… crime-related?”

He scoffed. “A few hotdogs isn’t hurting anybody… Compared to what I used to do, this is child’s play…”

Oliver’s lips twitched. “No… But wouldn’t it be nice to be able to buy your own without having to worry about the next guy who tries to trap you?”

“What are you? A cop?”

“No… Just a businessman… with a very good offer.”

Cocking his head to the side, he thinned his eyes with interest. “Yeah?” He paused. “I’m listening.”

With a grin, Oliver nodded.

With any luck, he might’ve just found the next add-on to his small team of superheroes.

Two hours later, he was sitting in a diner across from a sixteen year old Bart Allen, who’d ordered _everything_ off the menu and was eating like his life depended on it.

Sipping his coffee, Oliver cocked a brow, waiting.

“Okay… So I get paid to help out a couple people in suits who run around saving people all day?”

He nodded slowly. “The Green Arrow, to be precise… He’s in need of a little extra help here or there.”

“And how do _you_ know him?”

Seeing as it wasn’t smart to trust some homeless kid who enjoyed stealing food off anybody anywhere, he didn’t reveal his hand right away. “Queen Industries supplies Arrow with any materials he needs… Money can only go so far in helping out Star City, so when he asked for help, it was only smart to give it to him.”

Bart scoffed. “Couldn’t he just steal it? I heard he filches jewelry off old ladies anyway.”

Oliver’s lips pursed. “That was a stolen necklace that was returned to the Belgian authorities…”

Shrugging carelessly, Bart drank from his milkshake before letting out a long belch. “Okay… So let’s talk money… It’s not cheap living out here and nobody’s gonna rent to a sixteen year old…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He scowled. “That’s it? I’m just supposed to believe that I’m your latest charity case?”

Frowning, Oliver sighed. “Look, I’m offering you a good deal here… You can either take it and see how it goes or you can walk away and I’ll never bother you again.”

Bart seemed to be thinking it over as he went quiet and focused simply on eating.

Nearly a half hour went by before he finally said, “All right… I’ll try this… But if at any point I feel like some lapdog or mascot, I’m out.”

Oliver grinned slowly. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

Later that night, Oliver sat down to dinner at home with Chloe across from him.

“So it’s not set in stone, but he’s agreed to lend a hand…”

Cutting a slice off her chicken, Chloe nodded. “What do you know about him?”

“He’s got a clean record, which is surprising given just how much he enjoys pick pocketing. He dropped out of school, but if things go well I wanted to see if he’d either re-enter or take some courses online.”

Chloe smiled. “You really like this kid, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “He’s just a little turned around. I think, with our help, we can give him a better life.”

“And it would definitely be a plus to have a guy with his speed on our side.”

Pointing a fork at her, he nodded. “So it’s win-win.”

Licking her lips, she nodded. “Well, it’s just getting started. Let’s not get our hopes too high. We don’t know him well enough yet.”

“I know… But I’ve got a feeling this kid’s the real deal…” He grinned excitedly. “We’re turning into a regular band of superheroes, Sunshine.”

Laughing, she rolled her eyes at him with amusement. “So when do I meet him?”

“The hero-you or the you-you?”

Her brows rose. “Either?”

“I wanted to introduce you-you to him soon… But the hero-you preferably when I’ve had a little more time to train him. I’d rather he learn the ropes before he got too close to our secondary personalities.”

Chloe nodded understandingly. “So you like him but you’re not ready to trust him.”

“There’s a lot on the line,” he sighed. “I want this to turn out for the best, but I won’t risk you or what we’ve built.”

She grinned. “Good.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Nice work on dinner, by the way.”

She shrugged. “I figured your day was long enough and Ellie looked beat when I got here.”

“My own homemaker, I’m so lucky,” he teased.

Snorting, she rolled her eyes. “This homemaker expects that your attention won’t be so divided now that you’ve solved the Blurred Thief mystery… You’ve been really caught up this week and I was starting to miss you.”

Smiling gently, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “My apologies… And you’re right, now that I’ve figured it out, I can put my attention back where it deserves.”

Chloe smiled brilliantly.

“I should definitely spend more time with my bow and arrow…” he murmured, eyes narrowed in faux-sympathy. “The poor thing must be feeling neglected.”

She scoffed. “Har har, jerk.”

He chuckled. “You, me and the latest movie playing, how’s that sound?”

“Better.”

With dinner half done and a movie on the menu for later, things were getting back to normal.

Three days later, Chloe was introduced to Bart Allen.

Oliver glanced side-long at his fidgeting companion. “Problem?”

“Besides standing still?” Bart muttered.

“Trust me,” he assured. “It’ll be worth it.”

“Who is this chick again?”

“A good friend and somebody you’ll be spending a good portion of time with. She’s an associate of Green Arrow’s.”

“I haven’t even met _him_ yet,” Bart scoffed.

Oliver grinned. “In due time.”

Just then, Chloe walked around the corner of a building, looking through her bag for something.

“There she is.”

Chloe was ten feet away from them when suddenly Bart was gone from Oliver’s side and instead sidled up next to Chloe.

“Hel-lo, Beautiful,” he greeted, cheeks flushed.

With a laugh, she grinned. “You must be Bart.”

Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “And you must be my future wife.”

Amused, Chloe looked over to Oliver who closed the distance between them. “Off limits,” he said, squeezing Bart’s shoulder before circling to hook his arm with Chloe’s. “Chloe… this is Bart Allen…”

“It’s a real pleasure,” she said.

Bart grinned, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his bright yellow pants. Looking her up and down, he shook his head. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Exchanging a look with Oliver, she chuckled. “Right… So, Bart… Why don’t you tell me a little about your history?”

“How about over dinner? You, me, some candles…” he suggested, brows lifted.

“As wonderful as that sounds…” she drawled with a half-smile, “Our age difference is a little bothersome.”

“Age is just a number.”

“And these lines are getting old,” Oliver interrupted. “Bart here has a very nifty gift.”

“Nifty,” he scoffed at Oliver before grinning at Chloe. “Honey I could take you anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye.”

“Is that right?”

He winked. “Pick the place.”

Oliver sighed. “You can show her some other time, Bart. Today is all about business.”

With a shrug, Bart nodded agreeably. “One day then.”

“I look forward to it,” Chloe replied.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Stop encouraging him.”

Squeezing his arm, she smiled up at him. “Hey, when a guy offers to take me anywhere in the world, I don’t say no.”

“It’s a good thing I have a jet or I’d feel very emasculated right now.”

Laughing, Chloe shook her head before turning to Bart. “You hungry? You’ll want a full stomach when I set in on interrogating you.”

Bart’s eyes lit up. “Gimme a plate of food and you can ask me anything, Chloelicious!”

She blinked at the nickname, but wasn’t offended. “Rosie’s diner on fifth?”

“Sounds good to me,” Oliver agreed.

Hooking his arm with her free one, Bart nodded. “I’m in.”

And with that, a third was added to their exclusive partnership. Bart would have to answer a lot of questions and prove himself worthy when the others were in a pinch, but it looked like he’d just been recruited. While he was too young for Chloe’s affection and mouthier than Oliver might’ve liked, he was a good kid, and it looked like he was going to be sticking around for the long haul.

Now all he needed was a codename.

“Hey, maybe after this, we could take a trip to Mexico!” Bart crowed, sitting across from them in the booth. “You, me, and some fun in the sun!” he said to Chloe with a wink. “And you too, Bossman. Nobody makes food like they do!”

Random. Exciteable. And incredibly… _impulsive_.

Oliver smirked. Impulse it was then.


	20. XIX. Of Homeless Tin Men and Expensive Toys

 

**XIX.** _Of Homeless Tin Men and Expensive Toys_

Oliver was used to charities; he played his part and smiled for the cameras and paid more than his dues. He brought Bart along because he figured he might as well take advantage of the buffet rather than gouge his budget of late. So while he and Chloe walked to and fro, shaking hands with politicians and the overt wealthy, he kept an eye on the boy eating three sandwiches at once while hitting on the mayor’s daughter. Deciding he would intervene only when he had to, he kept his attention on Chloe and the couple they were discussing the downsizing in economy housing with.

“Not everybody can afford to live in the apartments being built,” Chloe argued, a flush of anger to her cheeks. “A lot of Star City is built on its family roots but these families don’t have the kind of income expected to pay for all of the housing going up. Most of the buildings are condo units, which aren’t fit for families in the first place, and the cost of living there is exponential!”

“But if we want to increase living here in Star City we have to welcome single and double households as well,” Mr. Franklin replied. “With Star City’s college becoming more popular, we expect to see more young adults populating the area and we have to have space for them as well.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Edward, if a family with not one but _two_ incomes can’t afford to live in these condos, how will a college student?”

“There are loans and government allowances, aren’t there?” Mrs. Franklin offered.

“Which are meant to be used _for_ college, not for the overly expensive housing. And besides, we have _campus_ housing being built as we speak. So why put up condos that not only block the beautiful sights of our city park and overshadow our schools, but that hardly _anybody_ can afford to live in? It just doesn’t make sense.” Hands on her hips, she sighed. “Instead of building skyscrapers, we should be thinking about affordable housing… And then maybe these charities wouldn’t be needed quite as much. Why put money into a pot that only grows daily? There would be less people with their hands out if they had the opportunity to truly survive here.”

Oliver grinned, reaching out and squeezing her hand affectionately. “I agree… And as soon as the mayor and his advisor are done toasting, why don’t we spread some of the dreams for Star City to him?”

Sighing with excitement, she smiled happily. “Great… I can’t wait.”

Just then, a huff could be heard and then a whoosh of air.

Chloe chuckled. “I think Bart was just shot down.”

Oliver pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “At least he got away before fingers could be pointed.”

Shaking her head, she cocked a brow. “Not far enough, I’m afraid. Looks like the shrimp table caught his attention.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver chuckled under his breath as he found Bart glancing from the mayor’s daughter and back to the shrimp, obviously weighing his options before he shrugged, filled his hands with food and then left the area before he could get in anymore trouble.

As the mayor stepped up to the podium, Oliver knew it was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next afternoon, Oliver was walking toward seventh and Broad to meet Chloe for a coffee break when he spotted what looked to be an old man sleeping in an alcove of a building. A ratty green blanket covered his legs, scuffed black boots sticking out from the bottom. As he got closer, he could see that the man wasn’t quite as old as he’d thought; though the beard wasn’t doing him much justice. His clothes were stained in dirt and the dark marks under his eyes spoke of exhaustion.

Chloe’s words wrung clear in his head. _There would be less people with their hands out if they had the opportunity to truly survive here_.

Without thinking much, he knelt down and reached out to wake the sleeping homeless man.

Startled awake, he reacted with a shout of surprise and nearly kicked Oliver back. If it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, no doubt he would have been laying back down on the pavement, questioning how sane his morals were. Hands up, he shook his head. “Whoa, settle down… I was just checking to see if you were alive.”

The dark-skinned man glared at him. “Thanks for the stick-poking, Armani, but I’m fine.”

Oliver half-smiled. “Look… I’m on my way to a nearby coffee shop and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab a drink with me… Think of it as a job opportunity; if you know anything about electronics, I might just be able to employ you today.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I know a thing or two about electronics…” Eyeing him warily, he slowly climbed to his feet. “You go around giving homeless guys work a lot?” He frowned darkly. “’Cause I’ll warn you now, try anything and I won’t have any trouble taking you out.”

With a snort, Oliver nodded. “It’s really starting to set in that offering help instantly makes people think I’m either a pervert or a serial killer.” With a wry smile, he stood up and brushed off his clothes. “Look, Queen Industries could use another computer analyst… You looked like you needed a job; I had one to offer… That’s it.”

“No strings attached?” he asked warily, brow cocked.

“None whatsoever.”

After a moment of thought, he offered a gloved hand. “I’m Victor Stone.”

Shaking the offered hand, Oliver nodded. “Oliver Queen.”

“So this coffee you offered…?” he wondered rather sheepishly.

Oliver grinned slowly. “Just around the corner.”

He waited patiently as Victor gathered his things; a ratty backpack in which he stuffed his blanket. Patting the dust off himself, he nodded his readiness and then followed next to him as they walked toward the coffee shop.

Waiting outside, Chloe smiled as she spotted them. Walking over, she greeted, “Hi!”

Leaning down, Oliver kissed her cheek before stepping to the side. “Chloe, this is Victor Stone… He’s going to be Queen Industries’ newest computer analyst.”

Victor’s brows rose. “Shouldn’t you see my recommendations or something?”

Chloe chuckled, rolling her eyes up at Oliver. “And you call Bart impulsive.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You don’t mind if Victor joins us for coffee, do you?”

“No, of course not.” She grinned at Victor. “I love grilling the fresh meat.”

Victor merely glanced at Oliver and then followed them inside the coffee shop.

While they took a seat at a table, Oliver left them to put in their orders at the front counter.

“So… Did you just move here?” Chloe wondered.

“Kind of…” He frowned. “I mostly grew up in Metropolis but it seemed like a good idea to move on.”

“Really? My cousin lives there,” she offered. “Any reason you thought Star City was a better fit?”

He scowled. “I figured the city housing the rival company of Luthorcorp was a good place to go…”

Chloe’s face softened. “I’ve done my research on Luthorcorp, it’s definitely not anywhere I’d like to be near… The kind of things they do, and how they cover it up…” She shook her head darkly. “I wouldn’t wish their treatment on my worst enemy.”

Victor swallowed tightly and she got the feeling he’d suffered more than he showed.

Forcing a smile, she reached out to pat his hand briefly. “Well, you’re in good hands now… Oliver’s a very good man and boss.” She lifted a brow. “What kind of experience do you have with computers?”

He smiled mysteriously. “Some days I think I’m part computer myself…”

With a chuckle, she agreed, “I definitely know your meaning. My trust laptop feels like an extension.”

He only nodded.

Oliver sat back down with them, placing a mug in front of each of them. “What’d I miss?”

“We were bonding over computers,” she said simply. “Now… What kind is this?”

“Caramel Coretto Mochaccino,” he said with a wink. “On three.”

She smiled, lifting her mug to her lips.

“One… two… three!”

They each took a long drink.

Eyes fluttering, she lowered her cup and licked her lips. “Mmm… Eight…”

Oliver wrinkled his nose. “Six… at best.”

With a scoff, she rolled her eyes. “When you’re wrong, you’re _really_ wrong.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “I’m not feeling it, Sunshine… Please, do correct me!”

With a dramatic sigh, she did just that.

Victor watched with keen interest, his eyes narrowed as he witnessed them banter back and forth. It’d been a long time since he sat down with regular people and didn’t feel like they were using him or trying to wheedle information out of him. These two seemed like genuinely nice individuals and that was why he thought it would be smart for him to get as far away from them as possible. He had too much going on, most of it bad, and he didn’t need to rub it off on them.

Shrugging his shoulders, he downed the last of his steaming hot coffee, licking his lips with euphoric pleasure. It was too long since his last cup of normality and he almost hated to see it go.

With a frown, he stood suddenly.

They paused, looking up at him.

“Bathroom break?” Oliver asked.

“Uh, no… Look, you guys are really nice and I appreciate the job offer, but… It’s just best if we go our separate ways.” Stepping away from them, he hugged his backpack close. “Thanks, though… Really.” And turning, he fled.

Oliver was quick to give chase, but the guy had some serious speed behind him and he was gone before Oliver could get a good lead on him.

Standing next to her dejected best friend, Chloe squeezed his hand. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

“My good deed just ran away…” he muttered.

Chloe cocked a brow. “Look… I don’t want to pry in this man’s business, but I have to tell you… When he talked about Luthorcorp, I got the distinct feeling that something happened there, _to_ him… So maybe it would be smarter to get to know this guy on paper before we go chasing him down and offering him a lifestyle change, all right?”

Nodding, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Willing to stretch those magic fingers of yours for me, Sunshine?”

She grinned. “Buy me a cinnamon bun and I’ll set up my laptop… We’ll have Victor Stone figured out before lunch.”

With a chuckle, he led her back inside the café.

Three days later, Oliver was still searching for the now very hard-to-find Victor Stone. With Chloe’s help, they’d hacked what information they could out of Luthorcorp and related to find out the necessary information. Apparently, Victor Stone was once a star wide-receiver for Metropolis high school but after a car accident that resulted in the death of his entire family, Doctor Alistair Kreig rebuilt him using various electric and mechanical parts. Being held captive for research purposes, he was eventually able to escape and through a harrowing battle against SynTechnics, Lex Luthor and Dr. Kreig, was free to live his life, so long as he kept himself safely guarded.

Obviously, when Chloe had said there was something about Luthorcorp that hit a chord in Victor, she’d been right. And now Oliver had to find him and show him that things _could_ be better.

He found him in a back alley, huddled next to a dumpster, looking worse than he had a few days earlier.

His hair was matted, his beard a tangled mess, and it looked like defeat had won out.

“Victor?”

He looked up sharply and then sighed. “Just leave me alone…”

“For what?” He scowled, scoffing. “To die out here?”

“So what if I did?”

Oliver frowned. “You really think after all you’ve been through that the best course of action is to let them win?”

He glared darkly. “What do you know about what I’ve been through?”

“I know you’re equipped with a bionic skeleton… That you have super strength, super stamina, and that you can endure things most people can’t… And I know that the Luthor’s had something to do with this and that you didn’t deserve what they did…” Staring searchingly at the younger man, he paused. “I can’t make you the man you were _before_ all of this… But I’d like to help you come to grips with who you are now and offer you a better existence than this.”

Victor sighed, staring at the ground. “I don’t know how much help I can be to Queen Industries… I can’t even help _myself_ …”

Oliver felt for the guy; the overwhelming depression around him was so obvious. “Then for now we focus on food and a place to live… Will you take that?”

He was quiet, contemplative, but finally, he nodded. “Yeah…”

“Good.” Stepping back, Oliver grinned. “As for that meal… I’ve got the best and the brightest on dinner right now…”

With a half-smile, Victor stood and followed Oliver out of the darkness of the alley and toward the bright future he was offering.

An hour later, Victor Stone sat down to dinner at the Queen Manor, next to a fidgety Bart Allen, a welcoming Chloe Sullivan and a gracious Oliver Queen.

In the next few weeks, he would get his own apartment, fully paid for, and he would meet with Oliver’s doctors to make sure his health wasn’t failing him. Uncomfortable with some procedures, he argued that he didn’t need any mad scientist playing doctor with him.

“I only want to make sure that in the last few years, nothing has short-circuited or caused you damage,” Oliver argued.

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” Chloe reassured.

So as he laid back on the sterile table, anxious and uncomfortable, he focused his eyes on the two people who never looked at him like he was different.

Smiling, Chloe took his hand. “So when I said my laptop was an extension, I was a little less literal…” Her eyes glowed with appreciation, however, as she saw the set up inside him. “Me and you, a hacking race later, all right?”

Relieved and thankful, Victor nodded. “I _will_ win, you know.”

She snorted. “Yeah, stay arrogant, hot shot. These fingers are genius.”

He smirked. “You’ve got fingers and all I have to do is plug myself into any circuit board and _voila!_ ”

Chloe looked to Oliver, smiling cheekily. “Can I keep him? I promise I’ll take good care of him!”

Oliver snorted, rolling his eyes.

Looking back to Victor, her smiled gentled. “When that bill of good health comes in, me and you need to talk computer geek… This one leaves it all up to me.” Lifting a brow, she told him, “It’ll be nice to have a partner who knows what I’m talking about when I get into ones and zeroes mode.”

Victor’s brow furrowed. “Partner?”

She shrugged. “Partner, friend, fellow-hacker, whatever you want to call it.”

“Eventually, maybe even teammate,” Oliver offered thoughtfully.

Seeing as Bart let the secret out two weeks earlier, Victor was well aware of their ties to Green Arrow. “Yeah… Maybe…” he allowed.

Within three months, Victor was battling the depression that had consumed him due to his lot in life. He had a place to live, food always on his table, a group of friends that he could rely on and an open job offer. It wasn’t Queen Industries, although Oliver always said he could work there if he wanted. Instead, it was to join the merry band of three, out for justice. It had taken him some time to make his decision and the lack of pressure from Chloe and Oliver had helped. They were aware that he’d been through enough and he might not want to use the skills he’d gained for anything. But as time wore on and he realized that the good things he’d gained weren’t going to suddenly disappear, he began to rethink their generous offer.

When he called Oliver to talk, he was invited over to the manor. He wasn’t surprised to arrive and find Bart at the fridge while Chloe and Oliver were upstairs, bantering in the office. He paused as he saw them, tipped his head and watched as Oliver planted a small box in her lap.

“Okay, open!”

Eyes flying open, Chloe looked down at the carefully wrapped gift and cocked a brow. “What are you up to?”

Oliver chuckled. “Open it and see.”

Lips pursed, she tore the paper apart and brought out a remote control.

Brows furrowed, she pushed the button in the center and watched as a large screen slid down from the ceiling and a computer console appeared from the depths of the desk. A QI insignia spun in the center of the screen while a bar on the side showed the level of access she had.

“You’re hooked up to the Queen satellites, so whatever you need, from wherever in the world, you can get it here… I figured since you’ll be doing a lot of the hacking work for the team, you’d want a better set-up for yourself…”

Chloe stared up at him with glowing green eyes. “Ollie… This is one very expensive toy.”

He simply laughed. “If this is where you pretend to be modest and tell me to take it back, don’t. This is for team purposes… I figure you deserve this…” Reaching out, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Say thank you, Chloe.”

She grinned. “Thank you, Chloe.”

With a snort, he rolled his eyes. “Give the girl the world and she still mouths off,” he muttered teasingly.

Chloe looked up at the screen and shook her head. “Quite literally the world…” Blinking in rapture, she sighed. “Do you realize just what I can do with this?”

He smirked. “I’m relying on your desire for justice to overshadow any world domination plans.”

Victor chose to clear his throat then, drawing their attention to him. “I’d like to make sure she stays on the straight and narrow, if I might…” He smiled. “I can help shield the computer so nobody can track it and all of the data will be safely stored.”

Oliver cocked his head. “Is this your offer of services, Stone?”

“This is me hoping that team opening is still available,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Chloe smiled brightly. “For you… Always.” Crossing the room, she wrapped him in a hug.

Surprised, he stared at Oliver as if he didn’t know what to do.

“Welcome to the team, Victor.”

“Cyborg,” he said, grinning.

Oliver crossed the room to hold out a hand for him to shake. “I like it… Welcome aboard.”

As Chloe stepped back to take her usual place at Oliver’s side, Victor grinned. He was finally happy with who and where he was.


	21. XX. Of Tuna Men and Japanese Dining

**XX.** _Of Tuna Men and Japanese Dining_

The ten hour flight was beginning to show on its fliers, or at least one of them. Accustomed to Oliver's jet, Chloe hardly batted an eye-lash as they flew out of LAX from his private air strip, comfortably aboard The Queen, as she fondly called it. While the pilot was still skeptical of her, politely saying hello to everybody while giving _her_ the stink-eye, she could care less. They had a job to do and as long as he got them there to do it, she was content. If whenever the jet rocked even slightly she silently cursed him and his grandma, well… that wasn't _so_ bad; it wasn't as if she was in the cockpit shouting in his face that they better not nosedive or she was going to shank him. It might have helped that Oliver was doing his best to distract her though; with blueprints and plans of attack and her favorite wine chilled nearby. So maybe her nervous flier tendencies were dimming; she couldn't say the same for Impulse, though.

"I don't think I like flying," Bart muttered, clutching the arms of his chair.

Chloe smiled. "Maybe next time we'll just let you run, okay?"

He nodded rapidly.

Oliver was scanning the blueprints still, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.

He'd been going over them from day one, as soon as he set his sights on the suspicious activities in the tuna business. To say he'd taken a liking to his hero duties would be a vast understatement. It seemed when he wasn't spending time relaxing with her or tangled up in some CEO business, he was looking for the next big bad guy to take out. She couldn't argue with the feeling; she liked knowing she was making a difference too.

"So where are we staying when we get there?" Victor asked, taking a seat across from them. "I don't mean to pry, but I'm not comfortable splashing my passport around. I know it's safe but I can't stop feeling like Luthor is gonna pop out and drag me off…" The dark twist of his scowl said more than his words and not for the first time Chloe felt a stirring of hatred for the man known as Lex Luthor.

"I rented a couple rooms down by Osaka Bay," Oliver assured. "I want us as close to the shipping yard as we can get but at the same time, we can't be obvious… While this trip is covered by Queen Industries, my flight log says Chloe and I are in Las Vegas, while you two are still back in Metropolis. That means no flashy hotel rooms that'll draw attention to us."

"Aww, man," Bart muttered, shoulders slumping in exaggerated disappointment.

"You promised me authentic Japanese food, Ollie, don't you dare back out now," Chloe reminded, rubbing her hands together in excitement.

"Do I _ever_ disappoint?" he remarked, grinning. "When we're done there are a few good restaurants nearby that we'll hit up before heading back home. All right?"

Everybody nodded.

So the itinerary was as follows: go to Osaka Bay, check out bad guys, kick bad guy ass, get proof of bad guy's existence, anonymously send it to the authorities, dine on fine Japanese food, bask in the awesomness that is their team. She grinned. She could definitely do that!

"I think I'm gonna hurl," Bart complained before jumping out of his seat and rushing to the bathroom in a blur.

Chloe watched him go, sighing. "He really needs to stick to just using his feet."

"Point taken," Oliver said, nodding.

…

They landed in the private airstrip a few hours later, thankfully Bart's stomach had even calmed down, and caught a cab to the privately owned hotel with two rooms equipped for the four of them. Without a concierge and instead just a couple of keys, they climbed the stairs to the third floor. Chloe and Oliver paused at Victor and Bart's room to make sure they were settled without problem. With two double beds, a TV, some lamps and a bathroom, it wasn't the Ritz but it would do.

"Shottie on this bed!" Bart exclaimed, on top of it and jumping up and down like a little kid.

"Now that your shoes are imprinted on it, you can have it," Victor muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!" Jumping to the adjacent bed, Bart zoomed around in circles, leaving his shoeprints all over the bedspread before hopping back over to his. "Now who's gloating, Computer Chip?"

Grimacing, Victor tossed his bag to the floor and then climbed on top of his bed. "You wanna have this fight, Twerp?"

Smirking, Bart gave a nod and in an instant the two were wrestling mid-air before falling to the ground, each trying to get in their own punches.

Chloe blinked. "They realize that no matter who wins, both beds are covered in dirt, right?"

Grinning, Oliver wrapped an arm around her shoulder and shrugged. "Right now, I think they're just trying to prove which one's tougher…"

With a scoff, she shook her head. "Remind me to just bring a ruler next time." With that, she turned to walk down the hall to their joint bedroom as Oliver shut the door to Bart and Victor's behind him.

Using the brass key rather than the keycard she was often used to, she shouldered open the door, holding her bag steady on her hip as she flipped the light switch on. Carrying most of the luggage behind her, Oliver shuffled it inside and stocked it by the nearest double bed. "You want to get settled in or go check out the job?"

Chloe took a look around their economy-sized motel room; drab beige wallpaper, old carpeting that was obviously well-used, a couple of lamps and a large black TV - nothing special. The beds looked cleaned, the room well taken care of, and she expected that while it wasn't a five star hotel, it would suit their short list of needs. Turning toward him, she smirked. "You kidding? I _live_ for this job!" Crossing the room, she tucked the key in her pocket and followed him into the hallway once more. With the door closed and locked behind them, she hooked her arm in his and started walked. As they passed the guys' room, they could still hear them fighting.

"That all you got, Pipsqueak? My _mom_ hits harder than you!"

"Your _mom_ likes this pipsqueak just fine!"

"Hey! Don't _talk_ about my momma!"

"You brought it up!"

"And I'm gonna bring you _down!_ "

"Like I went _down_ on your momma?"

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. "And _that_ is why he's Impulse…"

As the scuffling continued, she and Oliver left the motel.

It was twenty minutes later that they found themselves heavily scoping out the area around Osaka Bay. While they had the blueprints to work off of and a good satellite to give them a visual, they wanted firsthand expertise before they infiltrated. Careful not to be seen, they found every entrance and exit and watched as cargo boats moved in and out; what seemed like a simple import and export tuna company was actually dealing in a lot worse. In two nights, the team planned to infiltrate, find the information that stated such, get it to the Osaka authorities and if nothing was done, take out the shipping boat and company as needed.

Standing atop the warehouse, binoculars in hand, Oliver watched with narrowed eyes as steel boats moved to and fro. "You're ready for this?" he wondered, lips pursed in firm determination.

Hands in her pockets, a calm came over Chloe. This wasn't her first job and nor would it be her last, but she appreciated that he would always understand if she was unsure or unready to take on something like this. Still… "I didn't fly all the way to Japan with you to let the men play hero while I hoped for the best."

Smiling, he looked over at her, binoculars falling to rest at his chest. "No fingers crossed and prayers to make?"

With a snort, she pursed her lips and stared out at the workers below, all moving shipping gear and driving forklifts to pick up crates and steel boxes. "Why stand on the outside looking in when I can get on the inside and take them out one at a time?"

Chuckling under his breath, Oliver nodded. "That's my girl."

…

Bart was pacing, although from their point of view it looked more like he was just a long moving red light that stretched from one end of the small room to the other. It wasn't until Victor kicked his leg out to trip him unsuccessfully that he came to a stop, only to stuff his hands on his hips and glare at his roommate. "Watch it, Chip, or I'll drag you half way across the country and dump you there!"

"I'd like to see you try, Midget!" Victor growled back.

Chloe sighed, leaning back on the bed, her elbows holding her up.

Oliver gave a sharp, attention-grabbing whistle, stopping all arguments. "You two wanna put the games aside for a second? We've got bigger fish to fry!"

Glaring at each other, they both turned to look at Oliver, patiently awaiting their orders. He gave a quick nod before looking down at his best friend. "Sunshine, you wanna do the honors?"

"Gladly." Standing up, Chloe turned serious eyes on the group. "We've got exactly one hour to get this done. Any more than that and we risk being caught, tortured for information, and dumped in the Bay, never to be found again. Got it?"

While Bart and Victor exchanged a slightly nervous look, Oliver nodded.

"Good. Now, Bart, you're our fastest and you have the least risk of being seen or caught… You'll go with Cyborg, because he needs to take out the security feeds." Turning, she looked at Victor, "I've already got a loop disk, so I just need you to hook it up so it's all they see; just the same tape playing over and over. They won't realize their problem until we're gone…" Looking back at Bart, she continued, "When he gets the cameras down and the security alarm is turned off, I need you to search the warehouses. Check the crates, the files, everything you can… While you're doing that, Victor will have your back."

Bart turned, narrowing his eyes. "I'm supposed to expect _him_ to watch my back?"

Chloe took a deep breath before lifting her hands into the air and widening her eyes for emphasis. "Look, whatever issues you two have, iron them out. This is big and it needs teamwork and trust! You're _both_ the good guys, so get over your egos and let's do this already!"

Victor nodded and then looked between her and Oliver. "Where will you two be?"

Oliver smirked. "Anchors away."

…

As night fell, shadowing the dock yard, the team of four set out. Standing atop the same warehouse they had two days prior, Oliver and Chloe, dressed in their hero attire, nodded to both Cyborg and Impulse as they set out for their duties. "Remind me again why I didn't make Impulse wear something less… _red_?" Oliver asked, his voice masked by the distorter.

Chloe chuckled. "He wouldn't _let_ you?" She shrugged. "Jeans, a hoodie, and some sunglasses were about as far as he was gonna go… If you wanted him in a cape and spandex, you would've had to sign over your bank account to him."

"He'd spend it in a week on food and sneakers."

She grinned. "As long as his identity is safe, we're good." Turning, she lifted a brow behind her glasses. "Justice for all?"

With an arrogant smirk he only took a running leap, jumping off the building in a crouched back flip only to land on the ground with ease.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Show off." Following after him, she cart-wheeled twice before leaping into the sky and rolling to her feet, perfectly balanced. Rushing across wet, black pavement, they jogged in tune with each other and made their way unseen to the cargo boat waiting in the distance.

Climbing up the thick bristly yellow ropes that hung along the sides, rooting the ship to the dock, hand-over-hand as they climbed, they paused near the steel hull when they heard voices passing them by. Waiting, anticipation and some fear pounding in their ears, they listened without moving an inch until all was quiet once more. Climbing over the side, they crouched in the shadows, eyes scanning right to left and up above them.

"Clear."

Chloe looked to Oliver and nodded her head to show she'd be taking the left side.

Oliver motioned toward the door in front of them that had Japanese writing but also a picture of stairs on it. Knowing their own routes, they separated. Oliver watched until she was faint in the distance, her white suit no longer catching his eye. Silently, he hoped she'd be okay and bit back the desire to follow and keep an eye on her himself. She would be fine; she had the ability and the training and like she'd said before, this job needed teamwork and trust. He had to believe in that just as much.

…

"Cyborg to Team: security cameras _fixed_ and alarm is… _off!_ "

"Impulse to Team: I don't like the smell of fish in the first place, but dead fish is like ten times worse!"

"Cyborg to Impulse… Shut up!"

" _You_ shut up!"

"Green Arrow to Knuckleheads – _both_ of you shut up!"

"His fault!" they both replied simultaneously.

"Impulse," Chloe interrupted, "Eyes on the prize or no dessert! Cyborg – what's in the warehouse?"

"Approximately seventy-three crates, three steel boxes, six guards and Impulse is inside the only office area where there's three file cabinets."

"Can you take out the guards?"

There was a grunt and then, "On it, boss."

"Hey 'Licious, what's for dessert anyway?" Bart wondered.

"My hand upside your head if you don't focus," Oliver told him.

"All right, all right… _Touchy!_ "

"Green Arrow instating silent recon."

As a buzz cleared the comm.'s, Bart sighed. "Man… I better get an all-you-can eat ice cream cart for this!"

…

Oliver silently climbed downstairs, his bow in hand and his ears open for any sign of trouble. The second level of the boat was all crew, kitchens and bathrooms. Moving to the third level, he found the boiler room and the freezer where all the tuna was meant to be held, locked behind steel doors. As guards walked back and forth, guns at the ready, he had to make a choice. Hand-to-hand or take them out from afar and cinch their job. With a sigh, he decided to go the easier route; while he was interested in a fight, they only had an hour and they needed to check every surface they could. He needed behind those doors, so rather than give them time to call for help, he notched an arrow and waited for the two guards to pass by each other. With precision born over years and hard work, he released the taut string and watched as the steel arrow head embedded in the wall between their backs, releasing a gas that as they turned to question knocked them out completely.

Climbing down the stairs, he looked between the two unconscious men. "You guys mind if I look around for any illegal merchandise?" He blinked at the lack of response. "I'll take that as a go-ahead." Nodding, he walked to the large grey metal door and twisted the handle to the left, his upper arms straining, muscles clenching as the weight behind the turning locks was forced in one direction. Finally, with a hissing snap, it was open. Pulling it open, he had to plant his feet hard on the ground and lift, nearly bowled over as the smell of rotting tuna met his nose.

"Looks like you guys forgot the expiry date," he muttered before waving a gloved hand in front of his face and stepping inside the room. Old, flickering lights on the walls gave the room a less-than-inviting glow. The ice that packed the floor was much higher than one might expect, but as Oliver crossed toward it, trying his best to ignore the putrid stench of fish, he brushed bits of melting ice away to see the crates beneath. Pushing his bow behind his shoulder, he reached forward to try and open a crate, only to find it locked up tight. Quickly, his eyes searched the room for anything he could use to get the lock open. When he spotted the emergency axe, he grinned. Using his elbow to break the glass, he pulled out the red and silver axe and was just about to cross back to the crate when he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

A foot.

A _bare_ foot.

A bare _human_ foot.

Interest piqued, he walked hesitantly toward it. Stuck in between the fish was a man, his lips dried and blue, his skin a sickly color that seemed to be cracking or flaking. He was tied up; ropes bound his hands and ankles where he lay useless. Oliver bent low, removing one of his gloves to press his fingers to the unknown man's throat, searching for a pulse. Nothing at first, just unusually _hot_ skin. But then… a low thump, faint but there.

"Complication," he muttered, shaking his head.

Whoever this guy was, he'd been found out by the people on the boat. Whether he was an activist against the fishing industry or just a guy in the wrong place, it looked like it was his lucky day. Pushing the massive fish out of the way and off of him, Oliver dragged him out from beneath and onto the metal floor. He didn't wake or even move, he just laid there. Oliver quickly checked on the guards before untying the man and then shaking his head.

"Let's hope my team found enough evidence in the warehouse that I'm not walking away from a potentially very important secret right now, all right?" With no reply, he hauled the man up and over his shoulder. "You can thank me for saving you from ending up in a thousand tuna cans just as soon as we're outta mortal danger."

Hoping the two men on the floor would stay unconscious, Oliver climbed the stairs and hoped he could get off the ship without being caught. Because his bow was trapped between his back and the stranger's chest.

…

Chloe was getting impatient. They didn't have much time left; she'd had to take out three guards already and she expected someone to alert everybody else any second now. Bart and Victor had what they needed and were no longer in danger. Instead, they were en route to the hotel while she paced in the shadows, waiting for Oliver to appear. Her nerves were fraying; he'd been down there too long, no sign that he was okay or not. Finally, she decided to go down and make sure for herself. She trusted in him and she knew he was strong enough to handle just about anything, but that didn't mean he couldn't be hurt.

Taking the steel stairs to the second level, she crouched low and listened for voices. When she heard nothing, she started walking once more, keeping her back to the wall. Just as she was about to turn the corner, she heard a shout. While she didn't speak Japanese, she took a guess and assumed the man was telling someone to _stop!_ With a sigh, she knew this could get real ugly real fast. Rushing the corner, she realized the guy had his back to her and was facing Oliver, who had some unknown over his shoulder.

Rolling her eyes to herself she silently cursed and appreciated his hero heart and then got back to business. With a scissor kick, she hit the man in the center of his back, sending him to the ground on his knees, the gun in his hand skittering along the metal floor. As he turned to roll over, she jumped on him, pressing her elbow deep into his jugular, grimacing as he struggled. Instead of throwing her off, he reached desperately for his neck where his air supply was being cut off. All of his struggles were for nothing when he passed out, however. Lifting back to her feet, she put her hands on her hips and stared at her best friend. "Pick up a stray?" she snarked.

"I'd say he followed me out but I think you can tell he didn't…"

With a smile, he snorted. "Don't ask to keep him; you don't know where he's been!"

With a grin, he chuckled. "Ready to get out of here?"

"I've _been_ ready for the last ten minutes! We're officially over our deadline."

With a short nod, he crossed the space between them. "Then we should probably stop arguing on enemy territory…"

Sighing, she followed after him.

Five minutes later, when they were out of the immediate vicinity of the docks, she heard the alarm sound and gave Oliver a withering glare.

"Can we chalk this up to good luck?" he asked hopefully.

Glancing back at the man laying on the floor of the van, she shook her head. "Let's see what _he_ has to say before we call this a check in the successful mission log."

"Agreed."

…

Oliver, Bart, Victor and Chloe stood staring at their new add-on as he lay on the bed in front of him.

"His temperature keeps rising," Chloe muttered, chewing her lip.

"Should we call a doctor?" Bart asked, lifting a brow.

Victor rolled his eyes. "Because witnesses to this are really gonna help!"

"What's more important?" he spat back.

With a grimace, Victor couldn't help but agree. "Anybody here read Japanese?"

The three of them looked at Oliver, who glanced over with a snort. "Presumptuous much?"

Chloe pursed her lips. "Are we right?"

"That's beside the point." Walking past them, he knelt next to the man, watching as his skin seemed to peel away from his body, as purple veins spread along his bare chest, a chalky white color turned his skin while it dried in various places. "Something is seriously wrong with him… And he's getting worse the longer we do nothing."

"You think he was poisoned?" Chloe wondered, lifting a hesitant brow.

"What for? And why put him down there with the fish? Why not just kill him?"

Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What if he came in with the fish?"

Oliver looked up at her, brow wrinkled. "What? Like they netted him along with some tuna? What would he be doing out there?"

"Besides drowning or suffering hypothermia?" She sighed. "I don't know… But if they pulled him up with the fish, then they probably wondered the same thing and they wouldn't have killed him because they wanted answers…"

"So what do we do?" Bart asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

"We try to bring his fever down…" Glancing at Bart, she asked, "Some lukewarm water, please? And a cloth."

With a nod, he zoomed out of the room for a container and was back, filling it up in the bathroom in a flash. Sitting down on the bed, she took the dripping cloth and leaned over the man, slowly, gently bathing his forehead. As water dribbled down his temples and along his face, her eyes narrowed. "Is it…?" With an indrawn breath, she continued to wipe at his face, only to see the dry cracks of his skin disappear.

"More water," she said urgently and Bart was soaking a towel in the bathtub before hurrying back. Taking it from him, she laid it over the man's torso and pressed down, forcing the water to release from the cotton and onto his skin.

"His mouth," Oliver said, motioning to the white, ravaged lips.

Carefully, Chloe pressed the cloth to his mouth, soothing water over and around his lips. "This is…"

"Weird," he finished for her, but sounded rather awed rather than repulsed or uncomfortable.

"His fever's going down," she said, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead.

"The veins are fading too," Victor said, nodding.

"So what is it? An experiment or… Genetic?" she wondered, brow furrowed.

"Does it matter?"

"As long as he doesn't wake up and kill us?" Chloe said with an ironic smile, "No." With a sigh, she shrugged. "So we keep him hydrated, take turns watching him, and when he wakes up… We get some answers."

"Shottie not going first!" Bart exclaimed.

Victor rolled his eyes. "Can I hurt him?"

Oliver grinned. "No… It's frowned on."

Chloe smiled to herself, amused even while concerned over the turn of events.

…

It took a few hours for the mysterious water man to make up and when he did, he was scared and angry.

"Who the hell are you people?" he shouted, standing on the bed, hands curled in fists and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Oh, you know, just the people that saved you from a tuna ship… Nobody special," Oliver replied, unaffected.

His brows furrowed. "What? Why?"

"The why's not important," Chloe interrupted. "At least not to your question… Now why _you_ were on the ship and why water has a healing affect on you, that's a little more intriguing…"

Pursing his lips, he crossed his arms and shook his head. "Yeah, right, like I'm gonna spill my secrets because you _supposedly_ saved me?"

"There's no _suppose_ about it. You're currently inside a hotel room and not surrounded by dead fish, buddy, so a little trust might come in handy right now," Oliver argued.

Victor guarded the door, his arms tight over his chest.

"Yeah," he said, staring at Victor, "And I'm not less _trapped_ , either."

Chloe pursed her lips. "All right, so we make you a deal… Three questions, one veto, and you can leave."

Oliver turned to stare at her, obviously not agreeing, but said nothing at her complacent look back.

Slowly, the man nodded. "All right."

She smiled. "Okay, so… What's your name?"

Uncomfortable, he lifted a shoulder. "Arthur Curry… But I go by A.C."

With a nod, she said, "See, not that bad. Even painless."

AC simply shifted his feet, still wary.

"Question two… How'd you end up on that boat?"

He chewed his lip but then answered, "I was… _swimming_ … There was this net that seemed to come out of nowhere, from beneath. I tried to tell them to move but they were scared, confused… And we were all caught…"

"Them?" Oliver asked, frowning. "There were others? I didn't find anybody else in that room…" He looked pained now, like he wanted to go back and rectify his mistake.

Chloe stared at AC mysteriously. "Not people… But still friends." She walked toward him, half-smiling. "The fish, right? You tried to tell the fish to swim away but it was too late… And you couldn't leave them."

Bart laughed, unconvinced, but AC didn't.

"Dude, _seriously?_ "

He shrugged. "So I'm not exactly your average human out for a swim in Osaka Bay… _whatever_."

"No, not your average human… But maybe _super_ human." Chloe looked at Oliver, lifted a brow.

With a sigh, Oliver nodded slowly. "So what other abilities do you have besides talking to fish?"

AC shook his head, hopped off the bed. "No way. I answered your three questions and we had a deal."

While he was irritated not to get his answer, Oliver was a man of his word and so he gave a nod to Victor when he silently asked if he should move from the door or not.

AC walked toward it, shoulders stiff, eyes looking from face to face. "Thanks, you know… For the save."

Oliver nodded. "You ever need help again… or you're interested in a job that might just keep you out of trouble and away from nets… Drop into Star City, ask for Oliver Queen."

His jaw clenched but AC gave a quick tilt of his head and then left.

"Dude, you just let Fishboy ditch!" Bart exclaimed, shocked.

"We didn't _let_ him do anything," Oliver argued. "He had a choice. Everybody does."

"So that's it?"

He smiled faintly. "For now."

…

When Oliver suggested going out for that fine Japanese food she'd been promised before, Chloe was all for it. She tried everything she could get her hands on; from tempura to chawanmushi, all of it an experience she'd never forget. The restaurant was beautiful, the food delicious and the people were beautiful and interesting. Unfortunately for her, the chicken that went in her meal wasn't _quite_ as cooked as it needed to be, and so shortly after leaving her stomach was turning. Which was why she was now kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, her cheek pressed to the tiles and her hand on the porcelain toilet.

Oliver, being the best friend she could ask for, had picked up ginger ale to soothe her stomach and held her hair back when she continued to vomit the very lining from her stomach. A knock at the door said he was checking in on her and she managed a grunt to let him know she was still alive. A light chuckle escaped him before he slid inside the room and knelt next to her. Reaching out, he brushed the hair from her face gently. "Feeling any better?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I didn't think it was possible, but I think I might be _worse_ …"

"The rest of us are fine… In fact, Bart's still going through the leftovers." With a shake of his head, he sat down next to her, his back to the wall. And carefully, he drew her over until her face was comfortably cradled in his lap. Fingers stroking through her hair, he talked to her in a low, hypnotizing voice. "Sorry dinner was a bust."

"Mm," she murmured, eyes closed. "Not your fault."

With a frown, he tugged on her earlobe affectionately. "I _did_ pick the restaurant."

She half-smiled. "And you can sue it in my stead."

"Did you try the Gravol?"

"Yes, and if in three minutes I haven't thrown up I've beaten my record…" she muttered with sarcastic enthusiasm.

A low rumble of his laugh soothed her somehow.

Rubbing her shoulder, he kneaded circles into her back. "'Least you didn't miss out on the mission; there's an upside."

"Yeah… How unfortunate it would've been if I hadn't come along to save you while you rescued strangers from dead fish supplies without any way to defend yourself."

He snorted. "For someone as sick as you are, your temper isn't affected any."

"You could've been seriously hurt! What were you _thinking?_ "

"That some defenseless victim was laying half-dead down there and I couldn't just leave him behind."

Biting her lip, Chloe sighed. "I know…" Shaking her head, she reached out and pinched his leg.

"Ow! What was _that_ for?"

She chuckled. "Right or not, it was still reckless."

He cocked a brow. "So now I get _pinched_ when I do something stupid?"

She shrugged. "It's all I can without moving too much."

The back of his knuckles ran along her cheek lightly. "You want me to bring you to bed?" he asked, voice soft, concerned.

"Hm." She frowned. "Not until my three minutes are up. Otherwise I might just—"

Suddenly, she up was like a shot and scrambling for the toilet. Head bowed over, she heaved uncontrollably as nothing but stomach acid fought to come up. Oliver's hand rubbed her back and captured her hair to hold at the nape of her neck.

"Ugh!" she whimpered. "I _hate_ this."

"You're cute when you pout," he offered.

As she rested her cheek on her hand, her legs curled up beneath her, Oliver rose to soak a cloth in cool water before taking his place once more and cradling her in his lap again. Running the damp cloth along her face, he soothed the heat in her cheeks and down her neck. Arm wrapped around his waist, she snuggled her face into his leg and sighed. "I love you for this."

He half-smiled. "Try to sleep."

"Who thought my first real experience in Japan would involve food poisoning and a nap on the bathroom floor?"

He chuckled.

Focusing on how soft his shirt felt between her fingers and not on her spinning head or pained stomach, she tried to relax. "You think AC will come back?" she wondered quietly.

"I think it'd be good for him… A little direction and friendship couldn't hurt."

"No," she agreed. "It's definitely a good thing."

With that, she fell asleep on the cold floor, wrapped up in the scent and comfort of Oliver while he sat against the hard wall, holding her close, soothing her through the night.

…

Chloe wasn't feeling at her best the next morning, but she no longer felt like heaving every time she breathed, so Oliver tucked her into bed and began the packing process. The jet was leaving that afternoon and while she didn't look forward to ten hours on a less than steady form of transportation, she did want to get home. She bet as soon as she got to the manor, Ellie would begin fussing. There'd be orange juice and homemade chicken soup and her favorite quilt while she took Oliver's big, comfy couch hostage. It helped too that he had an endless supply of movies to keep her occupied during her time spent sick. She didn't imagine her editor would be happy to hear she wouldn't be making it in, but he'd have to understand. After all, she'd soon have an international exclusive involving the drug dealing at Osaka Bay's tuna docks. She grinned to herself, satisfied with the result of their latest mission, even if the food hadn't agreed with her.

While Oliver packed away her clothes, folding them haphazardly, there was a knock at the door. Since Bart tended to just shout or walk in and Victor would've announced his presence already, they paused and looked at each other.

Immediately, Oliver checked that she was equipped to handle what was coming. Taking the handheld dart gun out from beneath her gun, filled with enough tranquilizer to take down ten men, she gave him a nod.

Slowly, hesitantly, Oliver opened the door and peered out until the face of the visitor became evident.

"AC?"

With a relieved sigh, Chloe slipped the gun beneath her pillow once more; she _really_ didn't feel like getting into a fight today.

"Come in."

Uncomfortably shifting side to side, he stepped inside the room, half-smiling at Chloe before turning back to Oliver. "So, I know I was kinda abrupt yesterday but I thought, maybe…" He sighed. "Look, I don't wanna jump to conclusions about you but I noticed there was a big drug bust down at the docks today and I think… maybe you had something to do with it." He looked between Oliver and Chloe, eyes narrowed in question and when he apparently got the answer he was looking for he shook his head. " _Who_ are you guys?"

Oliver took on the face Chloe liked to call his _recruiting mask_ ; it meant he was about to make some stimulating and empowering speech that would invite AC into their exclusive club. She had nothing against this, although she did want to get to know AC a little better before putting too much stock in him. And she was starting to think there was a little _too_ much testosterone in their little Super Friends clique.

"You ever look around and wonder why things are the way they are and why nobody ever does anything to change it? To really _help_?" Oliver began and with a smile, Chloe closed her eyes and simply listened. She loved it when he got this involved and excited about what they were doing. And she knew that in the end, Arthur Curry would be more than willing to sign up for super-hero duty. It was the effect Oliver had on people; he could get just about anybody to root and fight for justice. Since the majority of the team was hot-blooded men, she knew it wasn't just the looks and charm doing it either. Maybe Oliver could read people's intentions and simply knew that they were cut out for this and maybe he believed deeply in human decency, but when it came down to it, they had a team of people willing to put their necks on the line for others, every day. And AC was going to be another of those.

She opened her eyes to see them shaking hands, grins turning up either face.

"Welcome to the League," Chloe said with a nod.

"Glad to be here," AC replied with a flush of happiness.

Now all he needed was a codename, she thought. And to be introduced properly to the two other teammates probably currently arguing over something or other. Speaking of…

"Why don't you bring Aquaman here over to see Bart and Victor, Ollie? Their twosome of chronic disagreeing just got a new playmate."

AC chuckled. "Aquaman… I like that."

She gave him a snarky salute and winked at Oliver.

Impulse.

Cyborg.

Green Arrow.

And _Aquaman_.

She liked it too.

A team of true-blue heroes.

Now, if only she could figure out her _own_ codename…


	22. XXI. Of Watchtowers and Team Spirit

******XXI.** _Of Watchtowers and Team Spirit_

Chloe narrowed her eyes, staring at him suspiciously. "What do you mean _surprise_?"

Oliver grinned. "Do I need to break out the Dictionary? I thought it was self-explanatory."

Rolling her eyes, she pursed her lips at him. "Yes, but usually I have some _inkling_ as to what you're planning."

Tipping his head, he disagreed, "Not when I took you to Paris for your birthday…"

She balked. "Well how could I _possibly_ come to that conclusion? I wasn't even sure I was really there _while_ there! I thought I was having some sort of episodic hallucination!"

Chuckling, he crossed the room to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, this surprise involves more than just you, there was no bribing your editor, and there won't be any international flying either."

Nodding slowly, she said, "Okay… But let it be known that secrets are not appreciated."

"I can't surprise you if you know what I'm doing," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps I don't _like_ being surprised?"

He stared at her, unconvinced. "No. And for good reason. Now get your coat, we're meeting the guys downtown."

"Fine." Pulling her coat out of her hallway closet, she tugged it on, flipping her hair out from beneath the trap of her collar. "But I've got a column due tomorrow so no late-lunch-early-dinners with Bart… He'll keep us there until they've run out of food."

"I've been ordered by Ellie to tell you that if at any point your stomach grumbles, I'm to feed you immediately." He smirked. "You miss too many meals, in her opinion."

Chloe rolled her eyes, but couldn't help a tender smile of appreciation toward Oliver's very sweet and nurturing long-time cook. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied, tucking her hands in her pockets and looking toward the door impatiently.

"You need a vacation," he told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders once more and escorting her out of her small apartment.

"Ooh, with pretty cabana boys."

He snorted.

Twenty minutes later, they paused in front of a high-rise building where the familiar faces of AC, Bart and Victor all congregated, arguing over this or that like bored teenagers. She snickered under her breath, watched as Victor took on an I'm-too-mature-to-be-arguing-about-this stance while Bart continued to pace, jump around, and argue his point loudly, for both AC and Victor to hear. Arms crossed over his chest, AC was shaking his head, waiting for the right time to point out his opinion.

"Think they're arguing about global warming?"

She chuckled, shaking her head.

"All I'm saying is… at least if you were with Christina, you know she wasn't going to be a tease or play up the virgin thing!"

"So maybe Britney has more substance!" AC replied, frowning.

Chloe and Oliver exchanged a look.

"What _took_ you so long?" Victor grumbled, hurrying in between AC and Bart in hopes that their arrival might put an end to the conversation.

"Chloe apparently dislikes surprises… suddenly."

Rolling her eyes, she shrugged. "I reserve judgment… I'm just a little more suspicious lately."

"Has there been a sudden influx of charming billionaires convincing their best friends to indulge in surprises only for them to blow up in their faces?"

She stared at him. "Yes, Oliver," she snarked back, "It was my last piece in the Gazette. Didn't you _read_ it?"

"Har, Har, Sunshine."

"Back on the topic at hand…" Victor interrupted, raising his brows impatiently.

"Right," Oliver said, releasing his arm from around Chloe to step back and rub his hands together in anticipation. "It's come to my attention that with the bigger our group gets, the less covert it becomes that we're all hanging out together. Not only that, but my house isn't exactly lacking in bystanders that might just overhear or sneak a peek at something. So…" Stepping back, he smirked up at the building. "I thought we might try a different course for headquarters."

The team looked to one another and then back at him. "You bought us a building and it's supposed to be _less_ suspicious?" Bart snickered.

Oliver sighed. "No… I bought you the penthouse. The rest of the building is rented out to various people, but most of them only stay here on and off during the year for short periods of time. It's an expensive place, more of a stopping point for people who live from continent to continent on business."

"And it's a Queen-owned building," Chloe surmised, nodding slowly.

"Right," Oliver said, nodding. "So there's less scrutiny and a lot of security."

Bart clapped his hands together. "Show us the new digs already, Boss-man!"

With a light laugh, Oliver produced a keycard and stepped up to the building. After swiping it through, he had to key in a password, which Chloe smiled over after realizing it was the day and year of her birthday. When they were granted access, they stepped inside to survey the large open foyer, equipped with a building manager that looked up and took them in before spotting Oliver and simply giving a nod. The two elevators supplied reminded her of Queen Industries, where one was for everyone else and another was for Oliver and the head honchos. The one they took up to the penthouse was reserved for them alone.

Stepping into the penthouse felt like a tech dream come true. The set-up she'd had at Oliver's was doubled here; given the added space, it was only natural. It was all open concept, no walls to get in the way. The kitchen was equipped with the latest in stainless steel and apparently already stocked as she saw a bowl of fruit on the counter and a jar full of what appeared to be her favorite cookies. There was a pot of coffee brewing and the water cooler bubbled with enthusiasm. To the left, there was a cushy living room set-up with a widescreen TV and all the latest in gaming merchandise, most assuredly for the guys on their downtime.

Speeding away and then reappearing with a flush of excitement, Bart declared, "There's like four bedrooms in this mother! And two bathrooms, with Jacuzzi tubs and everything!"

"Dude," AC breathed, eyes wide as he looked around.

Victor was already making his way toward the computers, laughing in disbelief. "Your satellites are homed in on everything! We've got eyes all over the city… Eyes that can zoom in on Kandahar if we wanted…"

"No way," Chloe murmured, leaving Oliver's side to see for herself.

Proud of what he'd done, Oliver stood with his hands in his pockets, grinning as he watched them move to and fro, looking at and touching everything.

"There's an air hockey table!" Bart exclaimed, hopping on spot.

"Best two out of three!" AC challenged him, hurrying over to where he was.

Laughing, the two of them started battling it out.

Leaving Victor to browse their new computer set-up, Chloe returned to Oliver. "Air hockey?"

He shrugged. "Their off-time should be spent doing as little as possible, just relaxing."

Smiling, she hooked her arm with his. "I'm guessing this means our hero business is a long-term thing?"

Looking to her, he nodded. "Like life-long."

Brows raising, she took in the serious light of his face. "Attached?"

He chuckled under his breath. "Completely and totally in love with it."

Resting her face on his arm, she nodded. "Yeah, me too."

"Guess that means we're real heroes, huh?"

"With these kinds of perks?" she joked. "Yeah!"

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hugged her close. "You know… Three of those bedrooms are reserved for the guys when they're too tired to go home after work; just a place to drop the gear and nap. But the fourth bedroom…" He stared at her hopefully. "There's a lot of room here, Chloe. The bedroom and bath is probably bigger than your whole apartment. And it's safer, closer to work…"

Wrinkling her nose, she looked up at him. "You did _not_ just get this place as a cover to get me out of my dumpy apartment, did you?"

He frowned. "Can't it be both? This could be home base _and_ home for you…" He looked around, motioning to the floor to ceiling windows that expanded all around, the open floor plan, the comforts that lay in every nook and cranny."

Pursing her lips, Chloe considered what he offered. Yes, her apartment rather sucked. But it was all she could afford and while small it had its cozy charm. It wasn't what she often thought of as _home_ though; if she were being honest, that was Oliver's, where she was greeted like one of the family and treated just as warmly. And this place had all she could ever want for. But… "I'm paying rent," she told him adamantly.

"For what?" he asked, cocking a brow. "This place is fully paid for!"

She shook her head. "I won't take your charity, Oliver. If you had it your way, I'd probably be in some palace somewhere exotic being waited on hand and foot."

"No," he disagreed. "Obviously this palace would have to be fairly close or I'd hardly ever see you."

Rolling her eyes, she held back a smile. "Seriously… I will live here, but _only_ if you let me pay you rent. The same I do at my place now, even."

"I dunno…" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If you're gonna be paying rent, it seems like you're getting this place for a serious steal only paying that paltry amount."

With a snort, she shoved his arm and stepped away from him. "Fine… I'll make dinner for you and the _kids_ tonight."

He smirked, tipping his head with interest. "What about your column you have due?"

She shrugged. "I'll get it done. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little house warming party."

"Did somebody say party?" Bart called out excitedly.

Oliver chuckled, "I guess that means it's a deal."

Holding her hand out for him to shake, she nodded. "I'll cook the food, you set the table, Hotshot."

The deal was sealed.

That night, Chloe realized her family had expanded by three. With the long mahogany table between them and decorated in all the trimmings to a feast, she, Oliver, AC, Bart and Victor enjoyed their first real homemade meal as a team.

"Pass the 'taters," AC asked with a bun stuck between his mouth.

Chloe stared at him until he flushed, "Heh, please?"

With a nod, she lifted the large bowl and handed them over.

Oliver snickered under his breath, hiding his grin behind his hand.

"What _are_ these things?" Bart wondered, poking the vegetables on his plate.

Victor looked over and then rolled his eyes. "Green beans, genius."

"Hey!" Frowning at him, Bart looked to Chloe. "Vic's being a jerk!"

She sighed. "Can we put the preschool fighting to rest and just eat? Please?"

Bart sniffed, glaring at Victor and then picked up one of his green beans to give it a try. After a few chews, he shrugged, deciding it wasn't so bad and picked up another.

"Fork, Bart," Chloe reminded.

"Just Bart, 'licious. No need for weird petnames."

Oliver snorted. "Because 'licious isn't weird at all…"

"It's a statement of fact," Bart argued. "She's Chloe and she's _delicious_."

Oliver stared at him stonily until finally the younger man threw his hands up in dramatic defeat.

"You know that won't stop him, right?" AC asked, cocking a brow.

"He'll learn his lesson eventually."

"How's the chicken?" Chloe wondered, chewing her lip. "Did I leave it in too long?"

It was dry and flaky, but nobody said that.

"Awesome!" Bart told her.

"Best I ever had," AC agreed.

"Juicy," Victor concurred.

Chloe smiled but then looked to Oliver for his opinion, who decided to just stuff his mouth _full_ of her chicken to prove a point rather than lie and tell her it was much better than what it was. Still, she was relieved, and so she returned to eating her meal and listening to the guys talk about random things. Thankfully, the topic of Christina Aguilera vs. Britney Spears never came back up.

"I saw some stairs down the main hall," Bart told them. "They lead to the roof, right?"

"Yeah," Oliver said, nodding. "There's a helipad up there too. For emergencies."

"Nobody else can get up to the roof though?" Chloe wondered.

"Nope. Personally owned."

"So where do you think we'll put our gear?" AC wondered. "Most of this place is open space."

"This is only _half_ of the penthouse," he explained, eating casually.

They stared at him. "Half?"

"There's another portion hidden behind a wall of super-security." He motioned for them to continue eating. "I'll show you after dinner."

Chloe was already trying to figure out what laid behind the wall. Since seeing Oliver's own personal secret room, she wondered if this one too was equipped with the same glass shelves, their gear and weapons placed carefully upon each.

Finally, an hour later, with even Bart full and the others rubbing their stomachs as they seemed ready to burst, they sat back in their chairs and sighed.

"I couldn't eat another bite," Bart moaned and then eyed his plate and shrugged, taking the last green bean and popping it in his mouth. "Okay, _now_ I can't…"

Chuckling, Chloe rolled her eyes. "So… Secret room?"

With a grin, Oliver rose, waving at them to follow.

Beneath the winding stairs there was a picture along a wall. It was old, a painting that had aged gracefully but looked slightly out of place in where it hanged. Oliver easily plucked it off its nail and leaned it just to the right against the wall. A security system was revealed, one that asked for three steps: fingerprints, voice authorization and a very specific password. Oliver placed his hand on the scanner and then spoke, "All along the Watchtower, a Queen has kept the view." The screen lit up a bright green and then white writing appeared, stating, "Access Granted." As the airlocks gave way, a door was revealed in the wall, drawing back and then sliding to the side, allowing them entrance.

"Welcome, Green Arrow," a computer-generated voice echoed around them. "It is my duty to remind you that without a lock on the persons allowed inside, this area is at rick of being infiltrated."

"Thank you, Computer," Oliver replied casually, before turning to look at the others. "Lights, please."

The room was lit up brilliantly, letting them see all they had to work with. Designated areas marked each person's own set-up. Like super-sized cubbies, they each had a place where their gear hung with shelving on either side lined with their specific weapons or extra necessities when on patrol. There was even an energy bar distributor for Bart that regulated how many he would eat so he wouldn't just woof them down at random. And his own personal water system would provide AC with a branded bottle he could keep on him for whenever. Oliver had thought of _everything_. Victor had a plug in that would help him run if his own personal battery somehow ran low and he needed to sit down and reboot.

To the left was a workout area, equipped with everything from bikes, yoga mats, and treadmills to weights and punching bags. Forward a few feet, just outside of the main area was a room of shower stalls, even with a changing area for _her_ so she wasn't lumped in with the guys. And there was everything they could ever need to clean up wounds or fix small injuries; anything that didn't seriously require a hospital.

"Ollie," she breathed, eyes wide. "This is…"

"Incredible," Victor finished for her.

" _Muy_ cool," Bart offered up.

"Dude," was all AC could say.

As the three guys went exploring, Chloe stepped back to stand with her best friend. "How long have you been working on this?" she wondered, searching his eyes with hers.

He shrugged. "Awhile."

"I can see that…" she murmured, looking to the titles overhanging each area. Bold letters stated **IMPULSE** , **CYBORG** , **AQUAMAN** , **GREEN ARROW** , and then… _blank_. She still didn't have a codename. Frowning, she looked from it to him and then to the door that let them in. "The password you used, it's from Hendrix's All Along the Watchtower…" she mused. "Is that what we're calling this place? The Watchtower?"

He nodded. "I thought it fit. Since we've got eyes all over and I expect they'll be on us and our backs as well."

Hands on his hips, she chewed her lip, mulling it over. "I like it… Watchtower, I mean."

He stared at her, wondering what she was thinking. "And?"

"It could be more than just a building," she mused. "It could be a person… It could be _me_."

Brows lifting, he crossed his arms, waiting for her to expand on the topic.

"If this is going to be my home, 24/7, then I'll be the one with eyes and ears on the pulse, right? So maybe this new home of ours is a little bit of a motto to live by… Watching out for the team and the world, day by day."

Nodding slowly, he reached out, tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "So Lady Watchtower is it?"

She grinned. "Just Watchtower, for now. We'll see how ladylike I am when I'm kicking bad-guy ass."

Laughing, he nodded and drew her into a side-hug. "I like it."

Arm around his waist, she rested her head on his chest. "Me too."

"We have bandages, right?" AC suddenly asked, appearing in front of them, fidgeting slightly.

"Uh, yeah…?" Oliver said.

"Good, good… 'Cause Bart wanted to see if he could slide from one side of the showers to the other with just water on the floor and—Well, it doesn't matter…. But we're gonna need some bandages." He smiled crookedly, brows lifted in sheepish apology.

Chloe blinked and then sighed. "You're idiots are lucky I like you."

Oliver chuckled behind her as she followed AC to see just what kind of damage had been done.

So they weren't yet the greatest heroes of all time but they were coming along. With Oliver's investment in their own home base slash Chloe's new apartment, they were one step nearer to becoming the kind of team one might envy. It provided a little push, a boost to their egos and some team spirit to get them motivated. With things falling into place as they were, she had to think it was just fate. They were meant to be heroes and they would do their very best to live up to expectations.

"How the hell did you lose that much _blood_?" she exclaimed, stepping into the shower room.

"Talent?" Bart replied, smirking.

Some of them might have to work at that _maturity_ thing a little more than others.


	23. XXII. Of Pulitzers and Job Offers

**XXII.** _Of Pulitzers and Job Offers_

> **Recognition: Star City's Own**
> 
> **By** : Stacia Grace
> 
> _Star City Gazette is proud to announce that its very own investigative journalist, Chloe Sullivan, has made it to the list of finalists for a Pulitzer Prize._
> 
> _Writing such attention grabbing articles as "_ _ Star City's Underbelly: Cleaned Up _ _," and "_ _ Green Arrow: Friend or Foe _ _," she's made a name for herself for being the kind of writer willing to get her hands dirty and tackle the biggest headlines the year has to offer._
> 
> _Having grown up in Star City, Chloe aspired to be an award winning investigative journalist since she was just a little girl with a pencil and a pad of paper. And following high school she set out to do just that! Thanks to an internship with the Gazette, she was able to get herself a hands-on view of the inner workings of the paper, while simultaneously balancing her continuing education at Star City University. While her earlier works were the not-so-glamorous obituaries she handled it like a pro and was welcomed just a year later when she was offered a much-desired and deserved desk and a headline to call her own._
> 
> _Proving our editor and her fellow journalists right, Chloe remains a bright woman with an interesting future ahead of her. We here at the Gazette are happy to call her one of our own and regardless of the outcome, we cast our vote for her!_

Oliver grinned widely as he read the morning's newspaper, looking up from his seat at the kitchen table and spotting his favorite little reporter hard at directing.

"A little to the left," she said, motioning with her hands. She sighed a second later. " _My_ left…"

He snorted. "Why don't we let them bring it all in before we turn the movers into decorators?"

She pursed her lips at him over her shoulder. "Just because they're wearing matching shirts _doesn't_ make them professional movers." She cast her eyes back at the two men in front of her. "And who thought blowing my face up on a t-shirt was a good idea anyway?"

"As if you had to ask," Bart flirted, appearing next to her, sandwich in hand. He looked her up and down appreciatively, a flush to his cheeks that spoke of a long-time crush she was well aware of. "You know, 'Licious, if this big apartment gets too lonely, you just gotta gimme a call and I'll be here-" He reappeared on her other side, so quickly none of them even saw the blur of his super-speed in action, "-in a flash." He grinned.

Smiling lightly, she lifted a brow. "I'm sure you would be, Bart. But I'm looking forward to all this big, empty space…" She looked around at the high-rise apartment that made up both her home and their new hero base. "It's been too long since I had a place it actually took a little work to walk around in…" She grinned excitedly. "I may even get leg cramps from all the stairs."

Oliver sidled up to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "If you kept up with your running, that wouldn't be a problem."

She rolled her eyes, smirking up at him. "We can't _all_ be fitness masters… Besides, I build up enough of a sweat every morning with you and the yoga mats."

The boys around her lifted their brows, obviously getting a different idea entirely.

"Hey," she said, drawing their attention, "Three more inches to the left and we'll take a lunch break, okay?"

Victor and AC exchanged a look; one that said they knew they'd move it those three inches only to have to move it four inches right until it was where she wanted it. Oliver shook his head, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin on top of her head. "You're a slave-driver," he murmured.

"Keep it up and you'll be donning my face on your chest and moving the china cabinet," she warned, bumping his stomach with her elbow teasingly.

"Oof!" he said dramatically, chuckling under his breath.

"So wha's fer lunch?" Bart wondered, speaking as he chewed a mouthful of sandwich. "I'm _starved!_ "

She snorted, smiling. "Yeah, you're wasting away."

"Take-out menus?" Oliver asked.

"Drawer next to—"

"The fridge, I know," he said, releasing her to walk back toward the kitchen.

Her brows furrowed. "I only put them there an hour ago, how would you—"

"'Cause that's where you put them at your old place _and_ at my house." Rifling through her junk drawer, he found her three favorite take-out restaurants and brought the menus back. "All right, are we thinking pizza, Chinese or other?"

"Pizza!" Victor replied.

AC shook his head. "Chinese!"

Bart bounced next to them. "All of the above!"

Oliver and Chloe glanced at each other.

"Right… I'll call Wong's on my cell, you get Pauly's Pizza on yours, and whoever finishes first gets to call out for whatever else these _growing boys_ need," she said.

With a nod and a half-grin, he pulled out his phone and hit six on his speed-dial. "Three extra-large with everything, right?"

"Except seafood of _any_ kind," AC reminded sternly.

"Aw man, you don't even _know_ how good sardines are on pizza!" Bart argued.

"And _you_ don't know what they were like _before_ you ate them," he retorted, frowning.

"Unlike _you_ , I don't wanna _talk_ to my food before I eat it… I don't need their life story to know they're gonna taste _good_." He patted his stomach for emphasis.

Letting go of the bookshelf he and Victor had been readjusting, AC advanced toward the younger league member, who quickly hid behind Chloe.

With a sigh, she covered her phone with her hand. "Bart, quit picking on AC, and AC… you _know_ we value your beliefs. The tower is fish-free, you have my word."

"What? But I thought we were gonna get an aquarium!" Bart cried, shoulder slumping.

"You think that's _cool?_ A personal _prison_ for fish here where we're fighting for _freedom?_ "

"Dude…" Bart reached out and clapped AC's shoulder. "You need a girlfriend… You gotta work off all that frustration."

Victor snorted in the background and then backed away from the bookcase. "Somebody call me when Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are done… Or when the food gets here. Whichever comes first."

Chloe waved her hand to tell him she heard him and then returned to her call. "No, you heard me right, _six orders_ of everything…" She smiled, nodding. "Yes, I know… _Lots_ of company…" She glanced at Bart and shook her head. She had a feeling getting her moved in was going to take _awhile_.

…

Later that night, with most of her things still in boxes, but her old apartment completely empty and her new place now full of her stuff, Chloe sat on the big couch that Oliver had bought for the sole purpose of providing comfort. Next to her, her billionaire best friend and the man who _bought_ her the apartment so she and the others would have a place to call the command center, was quietly lounging with his arms tucked behind his head, eyes closed. She reached across with her foot and poked his leg. His mouth curled with a smile and one of his eyes opened, turned in her direction. He caught her foot, dragging it into his lap and squeezed, kneading down the arch, making her head fall back in appreciation.

"Oooh, that feels good…" she moaned.

He smirked. "You're welcome."

She rolled her head to the side so she could see him once more. "Long day."

"We should've just hired real movers… They would've cost less; food bills alone."

She snorted. "Yeah, but we didn't want just _anybody_ getting into our precious Watchtower."

He nodded. "Your bed all set up?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Maybe…? I sent Bart and AC up to put it together while Victor and I tuned my laptop into the system… Knowing them it's probably a mess."

Frowning, he shrugged. "You get desperate there are three other bedrooms equipped with beds; none of which have been slept in yet."

"True," she agreed, running her fingers through her hair.

He stared at her a moment, watching as she let her eyes close and she relaxed into the comfort of the couch.

"You read the paper?" he wondered.

She quirked a brow but didn't open her eyes. "The one I work for? Yeah."

"How long've you known?" he asked, kneading his thumbs along the shape of her foot, his palm smoothing along the side, fingers spread along the top.

"Mm… awhile…" She pursed her lips. "I didn't really believe it at first… I guess I thought it'd disappear if I paid it too much attention."

He smiled. "Not going anywhere, Sunshine. You've officially been nominated for a Pulitzer… And you're gonna win."

Her eyes opened then and bore into him. "Don't get my hopes up. I might not!"

He stared at her honestly. "Chloe…" At her strangely insecure expression, he frowned, tugging on her foot before he moved across the couch to lie down next to her, his long body spread across the cushions and taking up most of the space next to her. Reaching for her hand he took it in his, their fingers threaded, and rested it atop his stomach. "You're brilliant; not just in your writing but in _everything_ … And if, for some incredibly bizarre reason, you don't get this… then they're either blind, stupid or being paid off."

She laughed incredulously, turning to stare at him. "They are _not_ being paid off!"

"Then you've got an even better chance of winning this." He turned his head so their eyes met. "You deserve this… but if you don't get it then I know, I _guarantee_ , there will be more nominations in your future than seems decent."

Chuckling, she smiled lightly. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "But just so we're clear… My money's on you."

Her brow quirked. "How much of it?"

He snorted. "Too much?"

With a laugh, she rolled onto her side. "Thanks for the support."

Following suit, they laid facing each other, her knee reaching out, stuck between his legs comfortably. "You'll always have my support… in _anything_ you do."

"Yeah?" She bit her lip, eyes falling. "Because there's something I wanted to talk to you about…"

His brows furrowed. "Shoot."

"Perry White called… of The Daily Planet…" Her eyes rose, catching his. "In Metropolis."

His smile slipped slightly. "Okay…?"

"He…" She laughed slightly, shaking her head as her brows knotted as if in confusion. "He offered me a _job_."

"In _Metropolis?_ "

Nodding, she stroked her thumb absently across his hand as it held tight to hers. "He said I'd have a desk there, a guaranteed headline every week. Apparently it pays just to be _nominated_ …" Her nose wrinkled. "I haven't replied. I— I know that it's a _great_ opportunity and I know Lois would _love_ for me to be closer, but… With everything I have here, all that we've started, I just… I don't think I could leave it… Or you." She stared at him searchingly, wanting his opinion.

He licked his lips, trying to absorb all that she was saying.

Metropolis.

As in three whole states between them; from California to Kansas. He has his jet, of course, and he could visit, _often_ , but it just wasn't the same as having her there with him, every day. Of being able to drop in on her unexpectedly, or coming home to find her there already, bantering with Ellie in the kitchen… He knew his thoughts were showing in his face because hers immediately fell.

"You don't think I should go," she said, not a question, but a statement.

"I think I'd miss you. I think I _will_ miss you…" Despite the clenching in his chest, the twisting of his stomach, he sucked it up. "The Daily Planet is a _huge_ paper. It's critically acclaimed, world-accepted… It's not just a good opportunity, Chloe, it's the kind of career you always wanted."

She nodded slowly. "The kind of career that would be really hard to balance with background heroics…" She pursed her lips. "Can you imagine me running around chasing a story when I _should_ be scaling buildings and beating up bad guys in dark alleys?" She smiled. "At least here I know what I can do; how I can keep it all together and not feel like I'm walking the tight-rope every other second."

"You can't make choices like this based on what's better for our little group…" Reaching across, he stroked the hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. "We'll always be here, you'll always be a part of us… but we won't hold you back in your life."

Her eyes fell, head shaking. "I don't know… I-I need to think about it." Sighing, she rolled onto her back once more. "I almost wish it never happened… That I didn't even have to _think_ about it."

Lifting up onto one arm, his head perched in his hand, he sighed. "Life never stops just because we're afraid of what changes are coming…" He half-smiled. "So you give it a chance, you try life out in Metropolis… Hey, for all we know, it needs a little heroics and we'll be on the jet and setting up shop right next door to our favorite Watchtower."

She smiled slightly. "You'd visit?"

"Constantly." He grinned. "So much you'd be sick of me on sight."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Never happen."

"You say that now…" he teased.

She stared up at him. "It's only a few hours by jet, right?"

"Barely any time at all… You'll hardly notice the difference."

But he would.

"Yeah…" With a long sigh, she closed her eyes, nodding to herself, letting the idea sink in.

And he laid down next to her, staring at the ceiling, his brows knotted. How the hell was he going to survive around here without her? Clenching his teeth, he held back his immediate response to keep her close, keep her with him at all costs. She had a life to live, a job offer that could be amazing; he had to support her in this, regardless of how much it might hurt him.

Her head met his shoulder, her arm spread across his waist, and as she sighed lightly, her breath skittered across his neck. He wrapped an arm around her in a loose embrace, despite wanting to hug her tight and not let go.

They would fall asleep there on the couch, holding on, tangled and comfortable; their dreams of the future very, very different.

…

Chloe hadn't brought up the job offer in Metropolis since and Oliver felt like he was walking on egg shells, constantly wondering but not willing to ask and find out. They continued to unpack her things and put together the apartment as if she were planning to stay. Pictures were hung up, knickknacks were spread across various tabletops and shelves. Her books were aligned in alphabetical order and her CDs and DVDs lined up from favorite to least favorite. The more the apartment filled up with the things that spoke of her, the more he began to hope she just might stay. But then he'd remember just what she would be giving up if she chose to stay behind, to say no to The DP, and he'd remind himself that he should _want_ her to go. If only it were that easy.

"Hey," her voice called out, drawing his attention. "You've been staring at that lamp for fifteen minutes… It's not that hard." She pointed toward the couch. "There's an end-table, make yourself useful."

He half-smiled, crossing the room to do just that.

After plugging the prongs into the floor outlet, he paused, his eyes caught by the picture on the same table. A few years old, it showed a younger them in the early stages of their friendship, grinning for the camera as she held it above them while they sat in their favorite coffee shop. Her head fell back to his shoulder, blonde hair spread out, her smile wide, all teeth. It felt like forever ago; when they'd first met, when his life was just beginning. Chloe brought with her a different view, an aspect of life he hadn't yet thought to consider. Friendship, companionship, fun outside of what he was used to. He learned to balance things; work and his personal life, just so he could keep up his responsibilities while still having enough time to spend with her. Nobody had ever meant as much in his life as she did and he didn't imagine anybody ever would.

With a half-smile, sad now, he rose from his crouched position and turned toward a nearby box, reaching inside and rummaging around for the next item to be put up. It was all picture frames; friends and family and big celebrations in her life. A picture of her holding her first newspaper headline at Star City High, an older one of her as just a little girl, sitting on her dad's knee, the ice cream cone in her hand dripping down her arm and onto her dad's pants, and then the more recent Christmas dinner with her dad, her arm around his shoulder, their heads bowed together, smiles reminiscent of childhood Christmas'. Another of her all dressed up for graduation, cap and all, standing by Gabe and her cousin Lois, looking excited and proud.

And then there were handfuls of the two of them; a picture of them enjoying pizza and pasta at Rocco's, another of them when they walked down the Santa Monica pier, each holding a giant teddy bear as their winnings, and a third that Ellie or Joseph must have taken, with Oliver standing taut and serious, bow in hand, eyes narrowed at the target, an excited Chloe stood just to the left of him, making faces to try and distract him. He chuckled to himself at her expression and then moved on to the next frame. They were dancing in the ballroom at the Hotel Napoleon in Paris, arms wrapped around each other, her face pressed to his chest, his chin on top of her head. A moment of serenity, of complete peace, caught in time. She looked beautiful that night; the rush of seeing Paris making her glow. He half-smiled; she looked beautiful every night.

The pictures continued on; one of him making a face at the camera as she snapped it at him while they were doing yoga one morning. He was sweaty, shirtless, and in the middle of the Warrior pose when she brought the camera out of her bag and teased him that it would be front page news by tomorrow. The fact that he knew she would never do that made it that much easier for him to stick his tongue out at her and roll his eyes. The effect of doing so made him look ridiculous, and thus it was one of her favorite pictures. On and on, pictures from the last few years, one or both of them, laughing, smiling, making faces; just being themselves, enjoying each other's company.

The last bunch expanded on that; it wasn't just him and her, but them with their team. Chloe and Victor at the computers; looking intense and in the moment, fingers working overtime on keyboards, brows furrowed. And then the next one of them laughing over something computer-related; speaking ones and zeroes that he would never understand fully. Another of Chloe and Bart, he was grinning up at her like she hung the stars and she was looking both amused and flattered, holding up a bag of cookies for his efforts. The next of him and Bart, the younger man holding up a pair of sneakers, his finger poking through the giant hole in the sole; Oliver was mid shake of his head, already pulling out his credit card for the speedster to get another pair of Converse, and likely clean-out a Mexican restaurant. A picture taken at Oliver's house, outside at the pool, had Chloe sitting on the end of the diving board, feet hanging in the water as she leaned forward to talk to a floating AC below while Bart ran by in the background, a super-soaker in his hands, as he chased Victor with a mischievous grin. There were a few of just AC, Bart and Victor, two or all of them occasionally arguing, though more like brothers than it had been in the beginning, where they'd all been so suspicious of everyone. And then one of all five of them; arms around each other, mid-laugh, grinning for the camera, looking like a bizarre but close family.

"You gonna be going through that one box the _whole_ afternoon?" Chloe's voice teased as she walked into the room once more, a bandana around her head to keep her hair off her face.

"Huh?" He looked up, taken out of his memories. "What? No. I just…" He lifted the box onto his knee and then stood, hauling it onto his side. "I'm gonna hang these up." He tossed his head back and then started walking around the room.

She watched him hesitantly, looking worried and a little confused.

"O…kay… Well, I'll be in the kitchen, putting groceries away in places Bart won't find them."

He smiled absently, nodding to her. When she left, he felt his shoulders fall. Packing all of this up was going to be even harder, because despite all the great times they'd had, he knew she had some even better ones coming; in Metropolis.

…

Oliver hadn't seen Chloe in nearly a week; every time he called, she seemed to be busy. He understood, of course; with his job, his days off seemed few and far between. The upside was usually that when he had time off, he and her would get together and just enjoy each other's company. Lately though, she'd been working hard at something she hadn't included him on and whenever he asked about it she just shook her head, smiled mysteriously, and told him he would have to wait and find out. While usually pretty patient, he was stretched thin more often than not. He had already come to the conclusion that she had to leave, had to take the job opportunity, and while she hadn't mentioned it, he thought she too had realized this.

Sitting in his office, knowing that his gear was sitting right behind the bookcase, that the computer he sat behind was equipped with a satellite that could zero in on anything, anywhere, at any time, he mused that even a billionaire superhero couldn't have it all. The phone rang, interrupting his woe-is-me thought process, and he reached over, plucking it from its cradle. "Queen," he said abruptly.

"Of what?" she replied lightly.

Despite it all, a smile still curved his lips. "And who may I ask is calling…? Can't be my best friend, I haven't seen or heard from her in, oh… five days or so."

"It has _not_ been five days," she muttered. "Maybe three. Forgive me, but I've been busy." Her voice turned giddy. "You want to know with what?"

"I'm privy to the knowledge now?" He leaned back in his seat, smirking. "Was there a conference to debate whether or not I was allowed to know club secrets?"

She snorted. "Yes and the consensus was an overwhelming _'No.'_ You're lucky I like you or you'd be on the outs still."

He shook his head, grinning. "All right, so where do I sign up?"

"Just meet me here at the apartment… And bring coffee."

His brows furrowed. "Is this a long process…? 'Cause I have a meeting in the morning."

"Spoilsport. And no…" Simply, she told him, "I just want coffee."

"Your wish is my command," he agreed. "I can be there in twenty minutes; fifteen if I break a few driving laws."

"Fifteen it is. See you then." She hung up and he leaned forward to do the same, standing from his seat. Despite the good mood her voice had put him in he couldn't help but think that his jet would take a lot longer to get to her for these impromptu meetings.

Twenty-five minutes later, thanks to a line at the nearest Starbucks, he was stepping out of the private elevator that led into her apartment. It looked a lot homier now that it had her special touch everywhere; with pictures and ornaments, plants and her added furniture, it looked like people _lived_ there. He wondered if he might think it looked too empty when she was gone.

"There you are," her voice called out, drawing his eyes to the left. She walked toward him, dressed in her white Watchtower suit, the hood down and her smile bright.

His brows furrowed. "Not that I'm complaining, but I already went patrolling tonight…"

She half-smiled. "Fight any crime? Save anybody?"

The warming effect of his heroics had his chest blooming; he loved what he did. "One carjacking and a B-and-E."

"Nice," she said, nodding. "So…" She held her hand out for him to take, "Come on, Hotshot, I've got something to show you."

Taking her hand, brows lifted with interest, he followed her to the wall panel where she pressed her free hand down on the scanner and waited. As the word " _Confirmed_ ," came up, she started plugging in the four-digit password, waited for the same reply and then said clearly, "All along the Watchtower, a Queen has kept the view." The screen lit up green, white writing appearing to say, " _Access Granted_ ," and with a whoosh, the airlocks gave way as the doors opened for them.

"Welcome Watchtower," the computer-generated voice greeted her. "I see you have company. May I ask for a voice recognition test?"

She grinned. "Yes, thank you Computer."

Oliver's eyes widened. He hadn't had that put in before and the Computer hadn't recognized other people previously.

"Voice recognition test commencing…" There was a short pause before it said, "Repeat after me: _Let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late_."

Oliver glanced at her but did as the computer asked.

Seconds after he finished, it processed his voice and replied, "Welcome Green Arrow."

Blinking, he turned toward her. "Been doing some upgrades?"

"More than one," she said, walking through the locker room and turning down the hall. Following after her, he joined her in the work-out room, where barbells and exercise machines were relegated to the far right. The padded expanse of floor which she stood center in was for sparring and with her hands on her hips, he wondered if that was what she wanted to do.

"Feeling clueless here, Sunshine…"

She grinned. "So white isn't the best color for blending in," she said, motioning to her outfit. "Which is why Victor and I have been working on a little camouflage."

He nodded slowly. "Okay…"

"I wanted to get your thoughts on it before I took it out for patrol… Can't be too careful."

"So how's it work?"

"Easy." Reaching back, she flipped her hood up, letting it shroud her face, and then reached down to her belt and pushed a button. "If I wasn't already Watchtower…" She blended right into her surroundings; her outfit somehow picking out the colors and letting her appear as though she was part of the room, "I think Chameleon might've worked."

"Whoa." Shocked, he walked toward her, circling the faint outline of her body. When he reached out, she was obviously solid, but just looking at her he had to blink a few times, feeling like his eyes were playing tricks. "I can hardly see you."

"That's the point." She grinned, turning toward him. "I'll blend right in with everything; no matter _where_ I am."

His lips lengthened into a smile. "This is incredible."

"Thank you. Me and Vic were working all hours to get this into order."

His brows furrowed. "Why the rush?"

"Personal inventory," she said with a shrug. Reaching for her belt once more, she righted her appearance to usual.

He shook his head. "Come again?"

She sighed. "Perry called me again, wanted to check in, see if I'd taken up his offer for Metropolis."

Oliver felt his heart turnover in his chest. "So when's he expecting you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I said yes?"

"The fact that it's an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience?" he offered simply. "Chloe…" Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulders. "You've worked your ass off for this; you can't just give it up."

"I'm not." She stared at him firmly. "Oliver, writing is not the _only_ thing my ass has been worked off for. I happen to remember some very hard strengthening exercises that left me feeling drained and limp as a noodle." She smiled lightly. "Maybe once upon a time being an investigative reporter was my only dream, but I have more than that now." She wrapped her hands around his outreached forearms. "I have a team and a dream for saving the world, starting with Star City, and… and I have _you_."

He sighed, jaw ticking. "I can't be the reason you don't pursue this…" He shook his head. "You might regret it for the rest of your life. I—"

"The only thing I would regret is walking away from what we've started," she argued, expression stern. "I can write here, I can balance it out with my night-time patrols, and I'm _happy_ working out of the Gazette." Thumbs stroking the pulse hammering at his wrists, she smiled up at him. "And let's face it; we're dependant on each other… Who's going to meet me on Wednesday's for coffee debates or convince me to practice shooting his bow and arrow? Who's going to give me half of his pizza in exchange for half of my pasta? And _hello_ , there's no _Rocco's_ in Metropolis!" She laughed sweetly. "Ollie… I may just be starting out, but I'm a _hero_ … A hero who writes in her spare time, not the other way around."

His chest lightened, as if the pressure there had been taken off, tossed away. "You're _sure?_ " He stared at her searchingly. "Because once you do this, I'm keeping you…" He smirked. "Metropolis and Perry White be damned, I won't let 'em have you after this."

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. "I'm _sure_ … Why do you think I spent most of the week working on making this thing so much more superior to your green leather fetish?"

He scoffed. "You blend in a little and you're already taking pot-shots at my suit. I think your ego is getting to you, Sunshine."

She smirked. "You're just jealous 'cause my suit's cooler than yours."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Not."

Reaching for her belt, she turned on the effect and then stuck her tongue out at him. "Too."

"Careful where you use that." He cocked a brow at her. "Keep it up and I'll mistake you for the couch and sit on you."

She snorted. "Try it!"

With a grin, he took her challenge and rushed her.

With a laugh, she turned to run, but even with her camouflage, he managed to catch up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up off the floor. Kicking her legs, she struggled half-heartedly to get away.

"The great Green Arrow catches the elusive Watchtower and the crowd goes _wild…_ " He mimicked screaming fans and she chuckled, resting her head back against his shoulder.

"Now whose ego is getting too big?"

He grinned at her. Though most of her had blended in with her surroundings, her face was free of her hood and clear for him to see. "Too soon for me to tell you I'm glad you're staying?"

"No." She shook her head. "I might've, maybe, sort've, missed you."

"Just a little?" he teased, wrinkling his nose.

She pursed her lips. "Tiny bit."

"I am missable."

"True… But then, maybe there are other leather-wearing billionaires in Metropolis…" Her brows furrowed. "You think I should put out an ad? Maybe give it a week. If I get any bites I might just have to trade you and Star City in for the bright lights of Metropolis after all."

He rolled his eyes. "Not funny."

"Kinda funny," she disagreed, smiling.

He squeezed her waist and then let her down to her feet.

Hitting the button on her belt once more, she turned toward him. "So… Been a week and we've hardly spent any time together… I know you've got work tomorrow but what's a little catch-up?" she suggested.

He nodded. "Put on a pot of coffee… What's a board meeting compare to you anyway?"

She grinned widely. "Not at all!" Turning around, she made her way back toward the regular end of the apartment.

Shaking his head, he smiled. He told himself as long as she was happy, that was all that mattered. And if that meant staying here, with him, then he wouldn't argue with her. Chloe knew what was best for herself and if she said she wouldn't regret it he would have to believe her. Maybe it was selfish but as long as he didn't lose her, he couldn't say he was upset with her decision. And hey, maybe if she decided to give Metropolis a try later, he'd see how it felt for him too. He had to keep an eye on his best friend and Watchtower now, didn't he?

"You gonna join me out here, or what?" she called back to him impatiently.

"Yeah…" He started walking. Under his breath, he added, "Wherever you go."


	24. XXIII. Of Spa Days and Feminine Wiles

 

 **XXIII.** _Of Spa Days and Feminine Wiles_

"Don't get me wrong, but I thought life was supposed to get _easier_ after you accomplished something like this," Oliver argued, frowning as he sat perched in a chair across from her desk. While he was the epitome of calm, sprawled back with his hands in his lap, dressed down in a pair of casual jeans and an Excelsior sweater, his right ankle tossed over his left knee, she was in the center of a mess. The phone had been ringing non-stop, her desktop was covered in stacks of files, and she'd been typing wildly at her computer while simultaneously holding a conversation with him and answering the phone when the ringing began to irritate her.

"What? This doesn't look _easy?_ " she snarked, rolling her eyes.

He half-smiled. "You worked your ass off for this… You think maybe you could take five minutes out to enjoy it?"

Her hands paused, poised above the keyboard, and she turned to stare at him. "So I won a Pulitzer, apparently that means _more_ work, more opportunities, and very little time to breathe…" She shrugged. "Can't say I regret it."

"You've been working non-stop since you found out you won… I don't even think you've had time to rub it in Lois' face…" He grinned. "Hit the pause button, Chloe, or you'll run yourself into the ground."

She sighed, shoulders slumping. "I _promise_ that as soon as this day ends, I will sleep away my entire Saturday and Sunday will be reserved _solely_ for you. But I have to finish what's on my plate, all right?"

"It's _overflowing!_ Isn't there anybody else who could investigate the…" He reached over, grabbed a random file and read the name, "Okay, so a follow-up on the security situation in Iraq and insurgent attacks on our troops is kind of big, but… I mean, Pluto's planet status coming into question? Somebody else has _got_ to be around to write that one for you."

She chuckled under her breath, smiling. "Not all of these are mine. The best part of being a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist is that I get to _pick_ which articles I want to write…" She smirked at him. "Especially since Jim thinks if he doesn't keep me happy, I'll run off to the DP at any second."

"All right, so delegate the whole load to, uh…" He looked around the room, spotted a bored-looking desk-sitter a few rows over and nodded at him. "That guy."

"Ollie…" she sighed, amused. "That's the copy-boy; he's just taking a coffee break."

He frowned. "At somebody's desk?"

"It's his older brother's. I don't think he'll mind."

"All right, where's his older brother then?" He looked around curiously. "Maybe he needs a week's worth of work."

She shook her head. "This argument is only going to prolong my day. I have a ton of writing to do, as you can see… And shouldn't you be off settling world issues with your billion-dollar smile and tech company?"

He shrugged. "Unlike you, I know how to delegate work to others. I have somebody on it."

She cocked a brow. "Really? So if I turn on the news right now, some little worker bee will be your spokesperson?"

His eyes darted to the side. "Not… _exactly_ …"

Gaze narrowed, she pulled up a news channel online and typed in Queen Industries. Quickly, her expression melted. "You have Victor on television?" She shook her head incredulously. "How'd you convince him?"

"He wanted to!" Grinning, he leaned back in his seat. "He was adamant that we get computers and a web-cam school set up in a few friendly foreign countries and when I agreed, he said he wanted to be as big a part of it as he could get… So I made him the face of it."

"Literally," she murmured, smiling at her friend as he spoke strong and proud of the latest Queen program, providing schooling for children that once seemed out of reach. "Nice work… Maybe you can hang your Nobel Peace Prize next to my Pulitzer," she teased.

"This was all Victor, I'm just funding it."

"Not an easy feat to convince the board, I bet," she said thoughtfully.

He grinned. "Who said I liked doing anything the easy way?"

With a roll of her eyes, she closed the window. "Okay, okay, you've distracted me enough."

He pursed his lips. "Really? I thought I was just getting started…"

"Ollie…" she sighed, looking at him pleadingly. "I have the weekend off, all right? So that break you're pushing will be very much had… I just need to get this out of the way first."

With a loud and heavy sigh, he nodded, standing from his seat. "Fine… But if you think you're getting anywhere near your laptop this weekend, you're sadly mistaken, Sunshine." Grinning, he leaned across the desk to kiss her forehead sweetly. "Get all your typing in now, because as soon as your work day is over you're officially banned from journalism until Tuesday."

" _Tuesday?_ " she repeated, eyes narrowing. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe _Monday_ might object."

"Then he can take it up with my people," he returned, walking away from her desk, tossing a smile over his shoulder. "Long weekend, no arguments."

"Tell that to my boss!" she exclaimed after him.

He smirked. "I already did."

Sighing, she sat back in her chair and shook her head. Wondering, not for the first time, how he _did_ that.

* * *

"Lane," she barked into the phone. Now was _so_ not the time; she'd been heavily ensconced in finding her favorite red pumps and only found one so far. It didn't help that she was on the wrong end of a time crunch and too stubborn to wear any other shoes.

"Bad time?" Oliver replied smoothly.

Lois rolled her eyes. "Unless Chloe is in the hospital or recently won _another_ award, I really don't have time to banter with you… I'm late for work and already on suspension."

"Not surprising. How about a holiday to make up for the inconvenience?"

Blinking, she paused in her search. Eyes narrowed, she cocked her head. "Explain."

She could _hear_ him smirking through the phone.

* * *

Despite being exhausted, over-informed, and ready to pass-out should she blink too long, Chloe left the Gazette feeling like a billion bucks. Her hands hurt, her head was swimming, and her eyes stung with overuse, but she was a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and _nothing_ could ruin the high for her.

"You know your apartment's in the _other_ direction, right?" a familiar voice interrupted her musings.

Chloe looked up, surprised to see Oliver leaning back against one of his prized cars. No driver meant he was planning on being out for awhile and it wasn't CEO related. Hands tucked in her pockets, she walked toward him, work bag bouncing against her hip. "And what are you doing here at this late hour?" she wondered. "I thought you'd be patrolling by now."

"Already done," he said, smiling. "And I seem to remember a certain best friend promising her weekend to me."

She cocked her head suspiciously. "My _Sunday_ , actually. Saturday was _definitely_ reserved for copious amounts of sleep."

Standing from his position against the car, he shrugged, walking around her and saying over her shoulder, "So sleep on the plane."

She looked at him quickly. " _Plane?_ Did you just…?" Sighing, she frowned. "What did you _do?_ "

He grinned. "Get in and find out." Climbing into the driver's seat of his car, he pressed the button to turn it on and revved the engine. "Come on, Chloe; let your curious nature take over."

Tossing her head back to glare at the star-littered night sky, she knew she wasn't going home to her incredible apartment or comfy bed anytime soon. Reaching behind her, she yanked the car door open and jumped inside. "This better be good," she grumbled.

With a laugh, he raced down the empty street. "Trust me."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the airstrip where the Queen jet was sitting lit up and ready. The pilot passed her the usual look of slight disdain and then nodded to Oliver. "We're refueled and your passenger has been asking for you."

"Passenger?" Chloe queried.

"Hey, does this thing come with any of those little bags of peanuts?" Lois' voice rang out as she stepped through the doorway to stand atop the steps.

"Lo!" Chloe cried excitedly, face lighting up.

Soon, the two cousins were hugging tightly, talking at the same time, and generally ignoring everybody else.

With a light laugh, Oliver climbed the stairs behind them and ushered them into the jet.

Confused, Chloe turned to look at him. "I thought _she_ was my surprise."

"Part of," he allowed, leading them to their seats.

Her eyes narrowed. "What's up your sleeve?"

Across from her, he settled comfortably in his chair. "You've got about four hours to try and figure it out."

She pursed her lips. "Ollie."

He grinned. "I'm not going to tell you. You'll just have to wait and see."

Curiously, she turned to Lois.

"Hey, don't look at me, cuz! I was promised a weekend vacay and picked up in the jet… He seems to think I can't keep a secret!" she scoffed.

Chloe didn't argue that point. "Four hours, huh?" she said instead.

"Yeah." Mockingly, he teased, "Don't you wish you could use your laptop to try and figure it out?"

She frowned. "Where's my workbag?"

He smirked. "Safely forgotten in my car."

"Oliver!"

"You promised no work until Tuesday… I'm only making sure."

Sighing, she slumped back in her seat. "I don't know whether to hug you or kick you."

Lois suddenly extended her leg and gave Oliver a kick to his shin.

When they turned to look at her wonderingly, she replied, "Just helping her make up her mind."

With a snort, Chloe shook her head, smiling. Despite her protests, it felt good to be with her two favorite people, no work in sight. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what Oliver had in store for them upon landing.

* * *

When the jet set down, she was still too excited and curious to sleep; it didn't help that Lois had conked out and her snoring could wake the dead. Oliver was a carefully guarded safe that wasn't about to let her in on anything that might give away his plans. A town car picked them up as the jet landed and before she knew it, they were driving through Scranton, Pennsylvania, and up into the Poconos mountains for nearly an hour until they arrived at their destination. Morning light spilled over the wood and stone building; looking much like a beautiful estate with lush green lawns, towering trees, and lights that lit the whole place up in a hauntingly beautiful way. The Lodge at Woodloch, a destination spa and resort, was stunning.

"You didn't…" she murmured.

He smiled as she leaned across him to stare in wonder at the building as they drove closer. "Did."

Shaking her head, eyes wide and mind boggled, she turned to look at him. "You're crazy."

He laughed lightly. "I'm taking care of you… since you don't seem to be doing it yourself."

She rolled her eyes. "So I've been working more than usual…"

"You're overworked and exhausted," he argued seriously.

"Maybe, but Oliver… as incredible as this and as much as I appreciate it, it's not _needed_."

Reaching for her, he tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "You're the hardest working woman I know; you juggle two jobs, four demanding men, and a best friend with his own various scheduling issues… You need a little down time, Sunshine." He stared at her earnestly and her shoulders eventually slumped in defeat.

Moments later, he had her hand in his and was leading her and Lois up to the main desk while a few bellboys grabbed the bags from the town car. Brows furrowed, she looked back at him. "You packed my things again, didn't you?"

He grinned. "Couldn't ruin the surprise."

"I just threw whatever was closest to me into my suitcase… so I hope this place provides more than a robe," Lois added.

Chloe snorted.

A woman dressed in a burnt orange sweater stood smiling at the concierge desk. "Welcome to the Lodge! Reservations for…?"

"Two, under Queen."

"Ah, Mr. Queen," she replied, nodding. "We've been expecting you."

"Just two?" Chloe turned to look at him. "You're not staying?"

He half-smiled. "I booked this specifically so you could have some time to just yourself and Lois… Consider it a girl's weekend."

"Do they have margaritas here?" Lois wondered, looking at the front-desk woman hopefully.

She smiled. "We have beers, wines, and cocktails, served after 11:30am."

Rubbing her hands together, Lois nodded. "Cocktails it is!"

"Ollie," Chloe sighed, frowning. "I promised my Sunday to you… What happened to you making sure I keep my word?"

"So we'll make it Monday instead; I'll drop in early Monday morning and we can spend it together." He stared at her searchingly. "I want you to enjoy yourself. No work, no internet connection, just you, Lois, and apparently too many cocktails." He grinned.

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "This is too much, you know that, right?"

He hugged her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You won a Pulitzer, I have never been more proud of someone in my life, and I don't want you to work yourself to the bone proving to yourself or anybody else that you deserve it."

Eyes closed, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face in his chest. "You know me _entirely_ too well."

He laughed lowly, the vibrations sending a shiver down her back she couldn't comprehend. When he drew back, he was smiling at her. "You have your choice of anything you want… It's snowing out, so fishing and canoeing might be off the list, but get in as many spa treatments as you can… Spoil yourself!" he ordered. "I'm leaving my platinum card and I expect it to be overused and worn thin by the time I get back."

"No arguments here," Lois piped up.

He tossed her an amused look. "Just keep your end of the deal and make sure she enjoys herself."

With a quirky grin, Lois saluted him cheekily.

Sighing, Chloe relented. "All right, okay, arm officially twisted."

Sliding an arm around her waist, Oliver stepped in between her and Lois and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as well. Checking the nametag on the front-desk woman, he grinned at her widely, "Claire, these are my two favorite ladies, I expect they'll be given the best experience possible here."

She grinned back, a flush of awareness to her cheeks. "Of course, Mr. Queen." She glanced at either woman. "They'll be treated to the highest standards offered."

"Thank you." Turning his attention back to them, he leaned down to kiss Chloe's temple and then over to Lois' cheek where she tapped expectantly. "Be good," he said, more to Lois than Chloe, and stared a moment longer before finally turning to leave, returning to the town car.

Chloe watched him go, before letting her attention be drawn by the immaculate and beautiful surroundings of the Lodge.

"If either of you are hungry, breakfast is still being served."

"Thank God, I am _starved!_ " Lois groaned.

Chloe chuckled. After breakfast, she was taking a long nap, and then she was going to see just what was offered and have herself pampered to the extreme. She couldn't help a dig of helplessness and even regret that it was all on Oliver's dime, but she also knew that her best friend wouldn't have it any other way. While Lois seemed to be taking to it as if it were easy, even expected, Chloe still had trouble remembering some days that Oliver was a billionaire and willing to spend every last cent to make her happy. She wondered briefly what that really meant, but then the aroma of fresh fruits, scones and every pastry under the sun had caught her nose and it was time for breakfast rather than delving into their relationship.

* * *

"Have you _seen_ this brochure?" Lois asked, perched in the center of Chloe's king sized bed. Outside, snow fell lightly, highlighted by the lights of the veranda. "It's like heaven on paper…" She looked up, excited. "Manicures, pedicures, facials, a to z massages, do you _realize_ just what's going to happen here? We're going to be _beyond_ relaxed. I won't even want to go _home_ after this!"

She chuckled. "I'm sure if you ask nicely, Oliver will let you stay."

She brightened for a moment. "He probably would…"

"Lo-is!" she laughed. "I was _kidding!_ "

She rolled her eyes. "Please, what's a few years paying for me to stay at a spa compared to his billions of dollars?"

Her eyes widened. "Years?"

"You're right; I should test-drive the place first… Could be all for show and I won't like any of it." She hugged her arms around herself. "Except the robe. I _really_ like this robe." She cocked her head, looking up at her cousin wonderingly. "You think they'll let me keep it?"

Reaching out, Chloe grabbed a pillow and socked Lois over the head with it. "I'm taking a nap… You can either do the same or go exploring. Just stay _out_ of trouble, _please!_ "

Rolling her eyes, Lois hopped off the bed. "You know, I'm always blamed for this so-called trouble, but you have your own magnet, cuz!"

" _Goodbye_ , Lois!" she sighed, rolling into the middle of the bed and resting her head on the big, fluffy pillows.

"All right, all right, I'm going… But I'm coming back and you and me are doing this place up Sullivan-Lane style!"

She waved absently, smiling to herself.

This was going to be an awesome weekend!

* * *

Chloe had never been more at ease in her life. Reclined in the most comfortable chair known to man, her feet were being treated expertly while she listened to the faint music that lulled her into a sense of complete serenity. Lois sat next to her, gaining the same treatment, and almost too content to voice her appreciation. After waking to find an impatient Lois shaking her out of her mini-coma, they went downstairs to enjoy the first bout of spa luxuries in the form of a _Lotus Cleansing_ , which involved a mud wrap, mineral bath and hot stone massage. A hundred minutes later and Chloe was a puddle of _awesome_ ; which made it even easier for Lois to convince her facials were next. Enjoying a _Golden Flame Hydrating Mask_ that boasted it calmed and hydrated, Chloe let it all happened and was simultaneously pampered with a scalp and hair treatment of botanical oils and massages. By the time she and Lois found the salon, she was starting to think her cousin had the right idea when she said moving in for a few years was the way to go.

Feet soaking in "natural healing waters," Chloe glanced at her cousin, who was smiling widely. "Oliver rocks," she murmured.

Chloe chuckled. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

Peeking an eye open, Lois turned her head toward her. "Seriously, we're sitting in a five-star spa resort, a place we could _never_ afford on our own… How incredible is that?"

Her smile lengthened. "He likes his surprises."

Uncharacteristically serious, Lois argued, "He likes knowing you're taken care of."

She nodded slightly. "That too."

"He said you'd been working a lot lately…" she needled.

Sighing, Chloe looked over at her cousin. "And that's different _how?_ "

"When Oliver calls me up because he's worried you're on your way to an early grave due to stress, it's _different_." She pursed her lips. "Don't get me wrong; I'm _ecstatic_ that we get this weekend away, but… It takes a lot to worry him and when it comes to you, he goes into overdrive."

Her brows furrowed. "Is it me or has his worry-wart status skyrocketed of late?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "It boggles my mind that you can be so smart and so oblivious at the same time."

Chloe scoffed. "I'm not getting into this again with you."

"Good. Because I've had it up to _here_ trying to make you see the light," she said lifting a hand up to her eyebrows. "One of these days it's going to hit you like a Mac truck and I'm just going to gloat!"

Laughing lightly, she shook her head. "Thank you, Lo, you're full of endless wisdom and unusual tactics."

She shrugged, not willing to argue.

Not ten minutes later, as their feet were being pumiced, two more women joined the salon, taking a couple seats a few chairs down to allow for privacy and comfort. Chloe eavesdropped more out of nature than an interest of what they were saying, smiling to herself lightly as she overheard bits and pieces of gossip, of opinions on the latest spring fashions, and of the hot or not hairdo's they'd seen lately.

It was amusing, at least, if not what Chloe talked about. When with her friends, usually just the team and/or Lois, the conversations were much more global, unless she and Lois had seen the latest episode of Supernatural and then it was arguing over which was better looking, Dean or Sam. Pro-Dean all the way, she argued Lois only liked her men tall, broody and geeky, and that's why she had a thing for Sam.

With the guys, she had a different way with each. She and Victor loved computers; they could talk ones and zeroes for hours on end and still find something new to discuss each time. She and AC could talk rallies and environmental protests; he liked to keep her updated on his latest try at peace between water and land and she welcomed both his and his fish-friends' view on the matters plaguing the sea. While she and Bart were much more lighthearted, enjoying video games and take-out, and really, she couldn't help but get some enjoyment from his endless flirting. And she and Oliver could talk about anything, any subject under the sun; it was something she valued most. She imagined if she brought up spring fashions he'd get her a pass to some Parisian fashion show and introduce her to rail-thin models. And if she practiced her _Blue Steel_ behind their backs, she knew he'd laugh with her while still putting on the Queen charm and getting his foot through doors not usually open to the public.

As if merely _thinking_ of Oliver encouraged him into their conversation, her attention was grabbed when one of the ladies said his name clear as day.

"You'll never guess whose girlfriend is in this same room as us… _Oliver Queen's!_ "

The woman opposite to her literally gasped. "Where? Wait, how do you know this? If this is more gossip from the maid…" she sighed.

"I saw him myself! He walked in with two women on his arm; one was that reporter he's been dating for years… You know the one! She was on G! magazine's cover last week; something about how the billionaire fell for a smart one. She won like a peace prize or something."

Chloe had to bite her tongue so not to correct her; it was the fact that she wanted to say _Pulitzer_ rather than _I'm his friend, not his girlfriend_ that caused her to pause, however.

"Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed jubilantly. "Uh, Claire or Carrie or something."

"Chloe! Yeah! She's here!"

"Where? And _don't_ point, just, I dunno, nod or something…"

Chloe rolled her eyes, hearing a snort escape Lois next to her.

"There's only four of us in here. She's the blonde right over there, next to the super-tall brunette."

"Oh, oh, I see her… Wait, I thought they were just friends?"

"Oh _please_ , have you _seen_ some of the pictures?"

"Pictures can be taken out of context, Nina."

"Who's that touchy-feely with an opposite-sex best friend?" Nina scoffed. "Unless one of them is gay, there's some serious chemistry going on there!"

"So there's no actual _proof_ though, right? I mean, they aren't big on PDA or they haven't admitted it or something?"

"Well… _no_ … but come on, Jen! Oh!" She cried gleefully, "I have a G! with me! You'll see! There's a ton of pictures of them…" Rifling through her bag, she came out with a stack of five or six G! magazines and plopped them down on Jen's lap. "There! Judge for yourself!"

With a sigh, she opened the magazine and after a short argument over whether she should just flip through or read the table of contents, they apparently found the latest pictures of Chloe and Oliver.

"Okay, so— _Ooh…_ You're right." She flipped through a few more and tisked. "Some of me and my exes didn't hold each other this much! Aww…" she gushed. "Look at how he smiles at her." With a blown out sigh, she admitted, "I wish a man would look at _me_ like that…"

"Don't get so down on yourself, Jen. We specifically came here so you could stop worrying about your love life!"

"Then why are we dissecting somebody else's?" she wondered, no doubt with a roll of her eyes.

"Because these aren't just _regular people!_ I mean, _come on_ , our boyfriends, nonexistent though they are, couldn't just send us off on a random spa weekend that _you and I_ practically had to take a bank loan out for!"

"She might've saved up; _she's_ not a billionaire!" she argued.

"Hah! I so heard him tell the concierge to spoil them and he said something about a _platinum card_ … It's _all_ on him! Whose best friend even _does_ that!"

"I wouldn't complain if you anted up for this," Jen said lightly.

"Yeah, if you have the space on your couch for me after I've been kicked out of my apartment for not making rent, _then_ I'll pay for you on top on my tab… As it is, I should really lay off the room service."

Jen snorted.

"Look, all I'm saying is that the Chloe Sullivan's of the world are a whole other breed than us. I mean, yeah, sure, she's just a reporter who probably brings in the same as us at the end of the day, but… I read somewhere she met him when she was just starting her career… She must be so used to this by now. All the money and glamour and fame… Can you even _imagine?_ "

"I'd _like_ to…"

"I know!" She laughed. "She has to have _feminine wiles_ coming out of her _pores_ … I read somewhere that before her he was like the biggest playboy ever known! But he met her at some charity thing and it was like _love at first sight!_ " Sighing wistfully, she mused, "How are some women so lucky?"

"You could always _ask_ her," Jen teased.

Nina scoffed. "Because she's going to just give up her tactics…"

"For all you know, they happen to have a lot in common and it was just great timing."

"Yeah, maybe. _Unlikely_ , but maybe… Hey, you think it'd be weird if I got her autograph?"

Jen laughed. "I don't want to burst your bubble, Ni, but what exactly are you going to say? 'Hi, I'm a big fan of how lucky you are to have that hunk in your bed and paying for whatever you want and I wish had your life, can you please sign this G! for me?" Amused, she shook her head. "She'll probably call security and have you kicked out… Hell, her boyfriend could _buy_ this place and have you _banned!_ "

As they giggled over their ridiculousness, Chloe sighed to herself. Turning back to her pedicurist, she happened to catch Lois' expression. " _What?_ "

Smirking, she glanced at her younger cousin. "Looks like I'm not the _only_ one seeing the obvious."

Rolling her eyes, she returned, "Shut up."

Playing it off as nothing, she relaxed into her pedicure and chose to ignore her cousin and the still chatting women across the room. But when her feet were nice and pretty and Lois was complaining about how hungry she was, she followed her cousin out of the salon, pausing once to grab up the forgotten stack of G! magazines and hid them inside her robe. If she wanted to do a little research and try and see what the two women had, that was completely normal. She was sure they were reading too far into an innocent picture.

* * *

By Monday morning, Chloe was spa'd out. She was relaxed, rejuvenated and appreciative; her cousin was still sampling everything, twice, and Chloe was sprawled on her bed, perusing the magazines she'd snagged off the two unsuspecting spa-goers from Saturday evening. Taking out only the pictures of her and Oliver, she tossed away the rest of the gossip magazines and carefully took apart each and every picture, from expressions to body language to trying to remember what was happening or what was said that allowed them to have been snapped in that position.

The first three were a few months old; she and Oliver were out for dinner at a new Greek restaurant. The candle on the tabletop had lit them up in a way that was entirely too romantic for a meal between friends, but she was sure that was more the camera's filter, because she sure hadn't noticed it the night of. In the first photo, they were holding their wine glasses up to each other in cheers, laughing, with huge smiles between them.

She remembered Oliver saying, "To us, a bad internet connection, and the C-note that got us in here on short-notice." Originally, they'd planned on spending the night in, on their laptops, catching up on work. On rare occasions when they were both bogged down with work and didn't want to spend their night at Queen Industries or the Gazette, they'd meet up at his place or hers, sit side by side on the couch, legs propped on the coffee table, and spend hours just working. Sometimes Oliver would ask her opinion on his latest business deal and alternately, she'd get his view on what was making headlines. But that night the internet was down and neither of them could get their work done without it. Giving in, they decided they might as well enjoy their evening together and found themselves at the booming new restaurant. Oliver slipped the lady with the reservation book a hundred and she had them seated before he could even drop his name.

Out of context, she decided. The picture was of just two friends, laughing, enjoying a good time.

The second photo was with their food in front of them; she had a plate of lemon, garlic lamb chops while he had a mousaka, both of their mouth-watering meals coming with roasted potatoes, vegetables and a Greek salad. Because sharing was just something they'd always done with food, the picture was that of her holding a slice of her lamp chop out for him, his mouth surrounding the fork as he leaned across the table just enough. Eyes half-closed and a smile drawing his mouth at the corners, he'd given her a thumbs up on her meal choice and she'd grinned back at him.

Out of context again. What was wrong with a couple of friends sharing a bite of their food? Nothing.

The third, she could see why some people might see something more, even if it wasn't really there.

They were on their way out, pausing at the check coat. With Oliver's coat already on, he was helping her with hers, and just as the material was halfway across her shoulders, he'd bent to kiss her temple. She couldn't remember what was said or what had encouraged him to do so, she wasn't surprised though. He'd always been affectionate with her. Eyes at half-mass, gaze on the floor, her lips were upturned in a smile, and the photographer had gotten a snapshot that said more than it was meant to.

In fact, it would seem from the many pictures taken of them through various G! magazines, photographers had found a great many chances to grab a picture of the two of them in a position that might be more intimate than friendly. On their way to lunch one blustery afternoon, with Oliver's arm slung around her shoulders and hers around his waist, their heads bent together; that picture had made the list of cutest couples in their Winter Edition. One of them at the beach the summer before, Oliver showing off in a pair of green shorts while she sported a modest white bikini, the two of them not the least bit conscious of attention as they ran through the water and he tossed her over his shoulder or into the oncoming waves, had made the top five Beach Babes collection G! magazine had the previous August. Picture after picture, old and new, people had seen them together, on vacation, at work, enjoying an evening out together, and labeled them as a couple, disregarding their arguments.

It was ridiculous, Chloe decided. And she was over fighting it.

When a knock came at the door, she shoved the magazines off her bed and into the waste basket. She was tired of fighting the media, strangers and even her cousin; they were free to think what they wanted. So what if Oliver paid for her to go on a spa weekend because he thought she worked too hard? He was just being a great friend, one who just so happened to have the ability to pay for something so extravagant. And so what if he was affectionate? Kissing her cheek or her temple or holding her hand? She liked that. She liked that he was so comfortable with her. In fact, if he ever stopped, she might actually wonder what was _wrong!_ So they could question it all they wanted and they could see things that weren't there, but Chloe knew the truth. She and Oliver were best friends and they would remain that way. _Forever_.

As she swung the door open, slightly angry and feeling all too righteous, she came face to face with the man in question. Grinning, Oliver held a yellow tulip out to her. And suddenly, she was drained. Her frown became a smile, her bunched up nerves relaxed, her shoulders slumped, and a large part of her simply wanted to hug the man in front of her. "I wasn't expecting you for a little while yet."

"The benefits of owning my own jet," he said simply. Looking her up and down, he cocked a brow. "Have you worn any regular clothes since arriving?"

She snorted. "If you knew how comfortable the provided robes and pajamas are, you wouldn't bother asking me that!"

Chuckling, he held a hand out. "Breakfast and then you can fill me in on how awesome I am for doing this for you."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped out of her room, closing the door behind her, and took his hand. Plucking the offered tulip from his fingers, she held it up to her nose and inhaled its sweet fragrance.

Clasped hands swinging between them as they walked down the hallway, he glanced at her impatiently. "So?"

She laughed. "I thought I was boosting your ego _after?_ "

"All right, just a hint. Thumps up or thumbs _way_ up?"

Shaking her head, she let go of his hand only to wrap her arm around his waist and hug him. "You're incredible, you spoil me too much, I love you, and please, _please_ stop making me look like the bad best friend for not being able to do this for you in return!" Looking up at him, she offered, "FYI, I give a mean massage… but I can't afford to buy one for you!"

Grinning, he slid his arm around her shoulders. "I can take care of myself… Sometimes, I just want to do the same for you."

"Tea works," she argued. "Green tea, sleeping in Saturday and a certain best friend's ear to bemoan to is always welcome."

His brows quirked. "You know you're not going to convince me to stop doing these things for you, right?"

She pursed her lips. "Just like _you_ know my knowing that won't stop me from trying to convince you I don't _need_ anything expensive, right?"

He looked down at her, amused. "Did it work?"

Sighing, she had to admit, "I'm the _epitome_ of relaxation."

He smirked proudly. "Good."

"I should warn you though…"

He looked down at her suspiciously.

"Lois wants to move here," she said, dead-serious. "Maybe not permanently, but a year or two, _at least_ …"

"Is that right?"

Eyes wide, she sighed mockingly, "You brought this on yourself!"

With a laugh, he shrugged. "I dunno, might be worth it to send Lois off here for a year or two… It'll be like boarding school. I'll only have to see her when I stop in to pay for damages."

"Damages?" she repeated, brows furrowed.

"It's _Lois_ ," he said simply.

She couldn't argue.

On their way to the dining room, trading stories of their spent weekends, Chloe happened to spot the two women, Jen and Nina, from the other day in the salon. Loaded down with luggage and on their way out, they paused mid-step to stare, wide-eyed, as she and Oliver crossed the room to a table. Oblivious to their looks, Oliver grinned down at Chloe, dragging out her seat for her to take and helping her move in close to the table before circling to take his own across from her. She wondered briefly what they must look like, if this only fueled their suspicions, but then remembered that she didn't care. _Couldn't_ care. Across from her was Oliver Queen, the best friend she could have ever asked for, and regardless of other people's opinions, she knew what he was to her.

As they picked up their menus, she was safely fooled in that knowledge. He reached out to take her hand, squeezing lightly, and caught her gaze. "I missed you," he said with the same sincerity as always.

Her heart jumped and her skin warmed.

Out of context, she decided. This was normal. She was _allowed_ to feel humbled and flattered that her best friend would miss her. Besides… "I missed you too," she returned. And she had. Maybe it was only two days and she'd been busy with Lois and the spa, but he was always at the back of her mind. Him and his unending generosity, his care for her, his friendship that knew no bounds. She was lucky, she knew. Maybe not in the way those women had thought, but exceptionally lucky nonetheless. And that was good enough for her.


	25. XXIV. Of Relocating and Double-Teaming Reporters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AU) Chloe Sullivan grew up in Star City, California with high hopes of becoming a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, but destiny has other plans. Finding a best friend in billionaire Oliver Queen, their lives intersect and take them on a journey neither of them ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers** : 6x02 - Sneeze

**XXIV.** _Of Relocating and Double-Teaming Reporters_

"Didn't we _just_ have this conversation?" Chloe wondered, circling her office desk to the metal filing cabinet against the far wall. "Perry White said Daily Planet and I said, 'No, thanks, but I'm more than happy where I'm at.'" Scoffing, she added, "Which is probably good since he was recently fired from the DP and I'm not sure they would've taken his word that I was worth having around."

Oliver pursed his lips. "As if they'd pass up a chance to work with you."

She half-smiled. "Your loyalty is unsurpassable."

Leaning back in his seat, Oliver smirked. "Feel encouraged to get me a trophy."

Chuckling, she returned to her seat across from. "All right, so what's up? Is there some Metropolis-related Intel me and the boys should be aware of…?"

"Not… _quite_ …" Frowning, he mused aloud, "Lois let you in on the Dark Thursday debacle, didn't she?"

Brows high and eyes wide, she nodded. "Disaster central. She gave me enough to write an article," she smirked, "but not enough to overshadow anything _she_ wrote."

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, well, let's say the satellite picked up something not so _normal_ in the way of Lex Luthor."

Chloe cocked her head. "Define 'not so normal'…" she pressed.

His lips pursed. "As in _inhuman_ powers…"

"Powers," she repeated slowly, eyes narrowing. "You sure this wasn't induced by very few hours of sleep and a long lingering dislike for a certain bald billionaire?"

He rolled his eyes. "At least I personally _knew_ Lex… Your dislike for him stems from his dad firing your dad, resulting in only the _best_ friendship you or I could've ever found…" he added imperiously.

With a snort, she shook her head. "Not _only_ that, although it was a deciding factor… Look, I've been monitoring Lex since before we even met and there is very little _normal_ about him, but _inhuman_? What are we talking about here?"

Leaning forward, he said seriously, "Regardless of the bad blood between me and Lex, this is a whole new level of weird… I can cover my trip to Metropolis with Queen Industries related business, but I think it's important we check this out."

"We…" she repeated. "Because if I give Jim absolutely no reason except that my best friend feels like having me around, he's going to give me the go-ahead to leave for however long?" She shook her head. "I'll admit I'm curious and that Vic and I will be taking apart every inch of that satellite feed, but I don't think I can pack up and follow you over."

He stared at her smugly, lips curling.

"What did you _do?_ " she sighed, already sounding defeated.

"If I happened to convince Jim to let you check out the DP for yourself and see that it wasn't where you wanted to be, then I'm more genius than even _you_ suspected."

She laughed incredulously. " _How_ would you convince him I'd go to Metropolis and _not_ be enthralled?"

He looked away in mock-thought. "I might've promised him I'd drag you back regardless of your decision and that I'd personally buy up the DP and destroy it if you didn't, _but_ that it was important for him to let you see for yourself that the Gazette was more to your comfort…"

Shaking her head, she sighed, sitting back in her seat with a bemused expression. "You know we're going to have to visit Lois, right?"

He grinned. "She's still being nice to me in hopes I'll send her back to the Lodge for a year-long vacation."

Blinking, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm in… But don't think I won't check out the Daily Planet just to prove to myself I made the right decision."

With a smirk, Oliver leaned forward in his seat. "You and I both know that the best decision you ever made was sticking around at that benefit when we first met and ever since then I've only been proving how right you were."

Pursing her lips so not to smile, she shook her head. "Redirect that charm, Ollie… I'm so past immune it's a world record."

He chuckled, rising from his seat. "You've got until dinner to shut down work here at the Gazette before we're on the jet en route to Metropolis…"

 _"Dinner_ ," she repeated incredulously. "I can't have everything done by then! I have—"

"Four hours, Sunshine," he interrupted. "And then we're off to solve the mystery that is Lex Luthor and Dark Thursday."

She frowned at him and his knowing grin.

Curiosity was always her worst enemy and once more it would defeat her. By dinner, she'd be sitting next to Oliver on his private jet, watching the video feed that had him so interested in the goings-on of Luthor and those not so normal _powers_ of his. Questions, questions, and she wanted answers.

* * *

Chloe frowned at the various video feeds she had up on her computer screen. "Metropolis is a _mess_ …" She looked up at him, concerned. "Some of the buildings are _still_ on fire."

He nodded absently, offering, "I already spoke to the mayor… I promised we'd be helping with the relief fund."

She smiled at his generosity. "A hero in every respect," she said, grinning.

He shrugged it off, turning in his seat enough to face her properly. "You heard from the guys yet?"

"Mmm, Victor's got eyes on everything. He says the clean-up crews are getting a lot done…" She turned her eyes up thoughtfully. "Bart's been tripping around Metropolis all night and _he_ says his favorite hot dog vendor is officially missing." She grinned. "AC's keeping the Arrow spirit alive for Star City; he should be out patrolling in your suit right about now, actually."

Oliver frowned. "You realize I can never wear that specific suit again, right?"

She snorted. "Nobody said you _had_ to go commando under those leathers."

"Nobody said _AC_ had to either…" His lip curled with disgust.

Smiling, she shook her head. "He's doing you a favor. As long as everybody continues to think Green Arrow and his trusty tights are all over Star City there are fewer people connecting the dots to Oliver Queen."

He narrowed his eyes. "Not. Tights."

Her lips twitched with amusement. Leaving that particular argument for another time, she instead said, "Speaking of connecting the dots, have you found _any_ where Lex is concerned?"

Oliver's brows furrowed. "I have a few connections to explore before I put anything in motion."

She nodded. "All right, well I wanna be there when these connections _get_ explored." Her chin jutted out stubbornly, as if she expected him to put up a fight. Where most things were concerned, Oliver brought her into the loop. But in the past those things hadn't involved Lex Luthor and he was an enemy Oliver put high on the dangerous list.

He frowned. "And if them not knowing you might be safer…?"

She scoffed. "Ollie… Everybody knows we're connected. If they know _you_ , they know about me." Unfortunately, with the tabloid fodder that trailed after him, that was all too true. "Just because they don't see me face-to-face doesn't mean they won't utilize whatever weakness they can find."

Scowling, he leaned back in his seat. "You don't make a very convincing argument for keeping you around."

She laughed, replying honestly, "I don't have to convince you."

Pursing his lips, he propped his head up on his hand, staring at her thoughtfully. "It's probably what makes you my weakness."

Shaking her head, she argued, "No, I definitely think it's the fact that I'm smarter _and_ cuter than you."

He smirked. "I didn't see _you_ on this year's hottest bachelor's list..."

"That thing is rigged…" Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. "I have to be in the six zeroes department before I even get looked at." She sighed with fake mourning.

Laughing, he didn't bother hiding his amusement.

"I win," she declared. "And just so we're clear. _You_ talked me into coming along, so you can't pull the just-trying-to-keep-you-safe card for this _entire_ trip…" She stared at him with wide, serious eyes until he nodded.

He pouted. "I still think I should get a veto card for special occasions."

"No," she said simply.

"Not even on my birthday…?"

" _Especially_ not on your birthday," she scoffed. "How am I supposed to surprise and embarrass you if you veto all my plans?"

His brows furrowed. "I would guess that'd be the _point…_ "

"Exactly." Shaking her head, she closed her laptop and leaned back in her seat, turning to look at him. "We'll be landing in a few hours. You wanna sleep…?"

He nodded, reaching over to pop the armrest up and out of the way from between them. "I've got an early meeting with those _connections…_ Should probably get in as much sleep as I can."

She smiled at him. " _We_ have an early meeting," she reminded.

With a roll of his eyes, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her over until her legs were curled beneath her and she was comfortably tucked against his side, her head lying lightly atop his chest. He stroked her hair gently back from her face before playfully tugging on her earlobe when he said, "You're not nearly as argumentative when you're sleeping."

She snorted, but curled up close, wrapping an arm at his waist, and let herself fall prey to the warmth and comforting scent of him. When she woke up, she'd be in Metropolis, seeing the ruins of Dark Thursday for herself and investigating the enemy. For now, she could take comfort in her closest ally.

* * *

Hours later, freshly showered and back in his element, Oliver made an intimidating figure from where he stood in his Metropolis apartment, staring out at the city landscape that was still smoldering and in desperate need of clean-up.

Perched atop his desk in her favorite pencil skirt, her legs crossed at the knee, Chloe stared through slitted eyes at the man Oliver called his connection.

Wagner. A tall, slim man with a buzzcut, a constant furrow at his brow, and a square jaw that seemed clenched. He radiated _ARMY_ to her and she wouldn't be surprised to find out it was where he got his special training.

"You've seen the footage?" Oliver finally asked, cutting through the tension.

Wagner gave a sharp nod. "Yes, sir."

"And you know Lex Luthor?"

" _Of_ him."

He turned, his expression dark. "Extract and interrogate."

No surprise registered on his face. "With force, sir?"

He shook his head slightly. "No violence unless you're in danger," he said, lifting his brow for emphasis.

"Can I ask what constitutes danger?" Wagner wondered.

Chloe's lips curled at the corners. "You'll know it when it happens… Otherwise, you keep your gun holstered and your trigger finger under control."

Wagner turned toward her and seeing that Oliver was not arguing nor even surprised that she answered for him, he nodded as though she too was his boss.

"You have a team?" Chloe wondered, rising from the desk.

"My men will do _what_ I tell them to, _when_ I tell them to."

She nodded thoughtfully. "And you have expertise in this?"

Wagner's jaw ticked. "The extraction, yes. I have someone specifically trained in interrogation."

Her lips pursed. "Someone you trust?"

Wagner turned to stare at her. "He will get the job done, ma'am."

"Same rules apply," Oliver said. " _Nobody_ comes to harm… Not unless absolutely necessary."

He nodded sharply in compliance.

"I want regular updates..."

"Yes, sir."

"The usual payment plan applies. Half now, half when you've finished what I've asked."

Again, Wagner nodded, and seeing that he was dismissed, he looked between them both in farewell and left.

Chloe stared at the closed door. "What do you think they'll find out?"

Oliver frowned. "Honestly… Right now, I couldn't begin to imagine." He sighed. "What gives a human the ability to withstand _bullets?_ They _ricocheted_ off of him…"

She nodded, her brows furrowed. She'd seen strange things in her life, and read up on the many unusual happenings of Smallville until she'd begun to hear the Twilight Zone theme song in her head, but this felt like a whole new level of bizarre. "This Wagner…" She returned her attention to Oliver, who stood pensively in front of her. "You trust he won't hurt Lex?"

He half-smiled. "If a bullet isn't going to take him down, what could Wagner do?"

Her eyes narrowed, uncertain. "I'm not sure I like working outside our team," she admitted. "At least with the boys, I know they'll do what we ask… There's no coloring outside the lines."

Oliver crossed the space between them. "If this goes South, we stick to our people from now on…" he promised. "Remember they're still green though; the last thing we needed was to put Bart in a room with Lex and have him turn into his next lab experiment."

She shivered at the very thought. "Some part of me actually _wants_ Wagner and his boys to take a few shots at Lex…" Her brows furrowed. "Even if he's human, if those powers of his are easily explained away… There's something not right with him." Her lips firmed with displeasure.

"So we find out what it is and if possible… we fix it."

"How do you fix a person, Oliver?" She stared up at him. "Is there even a cure for someone so sick, so- so _demented_ that he willingly uses people like they're his _toys?_ "

He didn't know, but with the way she was looking at him, as if she hoped that yes, he did have a cure for that, just lying around, he didn't want to tell her different. So instead, he took her hand and he drew her close, squeezing her fingers in his reassuringly. "While our personal henchmen are out doing our dirty work, why don't you let me take you for breakfast…? And then, if you're still interested, we could drop by the Daily Planet and see what you passed up?"

"You're playing with fire…" Her lips twitched with a smirk. "I could walk in the DP and fall in love."

He grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist snugly and directing her toward the door. "I'll take my chances and hope you stick around."

She laughed lightly.

They both knew she wasn't going anywhere; not if it meant leaving him.

* * *

Oliver received texts all morning; updates on where Lex was and what he was doing. After a light breakfast, where they agreed the coffee was nowhere near as good as their favorite café in Star City, he escorted her to the Daily Planet, where every reporter inside seemed to be bustling with frantic energy. In the background, a news reporter was speaking out from the chaos of middle-Metropolis, " _Pentagon officials continue to deny_ any _security breach and_ any _responsibility for the events of Dark Thursday… Experts' predicted recovery will take years. But here in Metropolis, clean up efforts have been remarkably smooth. The public is_ stunned _at how fast rubble has been cleared from the streets… This is Genevieve Sparling reporting live from_ —"

Arm in arm, they continued past the busy news room, searching for any sign of the editor. A young man was coming down the stairs, fiddling with a camera in his hands. Oliver spotted the bowtie and couldn't hide an amused smile. He waved to catch his attention and when the boy came to a stop, nodded. "Pauline Kahn?" he asked.

He stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Hey, aren't you—" His attention was then swiftly turned when he spotted Chloe next to him. "Y-You're Chloe Sullivan!" he exclaimed. "You just won the Pulitzer prize for journalism!"

Chloe grinned slightly. "Yeah," she said, a light laugh escaping her. "Um, I'm sorry…" She glanced at Oliver, feeling uncomfortable with the attention. "We didn't get your name…?"

"Jimmy, uh, James. I-I'm _James_." He glanced at Oliver and then back at her. "I read your article on that drug bust, about how you risked your own neck going inside and I just…" He shook his head, grinning widely. "Wow. Really, it was just—"

"Wow, yeah, we know," Oliver interrupted. "Your editor, _Jimmy?_ Where can we find her?"

"Oh, right, um… Well, she's two floors up, actually…" Flushed, he turned back to Chloe. "Are-Are you thinking of transferring? Because, I-I mean the Daily Planet would be _so_ lucky to have you. I'm the on-location photographer." He fiddled with his camera. "So, y'know, if you ever need a picture taken… I'm your man."

Chloe smiled, nodding. "Thank you… _James_." She looked to Oliver. "Two floors, right?"

His brows rose, teasing, "Unless you wanted to get your picture taken."

She squeezed the bicep beneath her hand. "No, no, I- _We_ should really go meet Pauline…"

Amused, Oliver nodded and started walking toward the stairs. "Thanks Jimmy," he called back over his shoulder.

"Uh, it… It's James," he muttered in reply, staring after Chloe.

"You did that on purpose," Chloe chastised, keeping step with him.

"He was falling in love with you with each passing second," Oliver scoffed. "Besides, we're on a deadline."

"Are we?" she mused, cocking a brow. "You know, for a shareholder, you don't seem to know the layout around here very well."

As they crested the first of two floors, he shrugged. "Queen Industries is a shareholder in a lot of things… I don't visit often."

Her eyes scanned the area with delight. "You should. It's beautiful here."

He half-frowned. "So the Gazette isn't quite as… shiny."

She snorted. "Star City Gazette is like the DP's ugly cousin…" She slid her hand along the smooth banister and smiled. "Seriously, it's like good journalism is weeping from the walls. It makes me wanna cry when I think about how badly the Gazette needs a new paint job… and carpets… and maybe even chairs that don't squeak every time I move."

He rolled his eyes. "Message received; I'll send the designers in as soon as we get back and the Gazette will be like brand new."

Chloe scoffed. "I was not hinting… I was just admiring the sheer awesome that is the Daily Planet."

Stubbornly, he said, "I'll sign a blank check and you can fill it in for whatever it takes."

Laughing, Chloe hurried up the stairs and blocked his way. Hands on his shoulders, she squeezed, and stared him dead in the eye. "Ollie," she laughed, "I'm not giving up Star City or the Gazette just because the Daily Planet happens to be _prettier_ …" She shook her head. "I told you, I like my life there and my job and while the DP certainly has its upsides—"

"Like chairs that don't squeak," he interrupted.

"Yes, like that…" She rolled her eyes slightly. "It doesn't mean I'm handing in my Gazette nametag for it."

He pursed his lips, staring back at her searchingly. "I'm still remodeling."

She grinned. "I won't argue with you. It certainly needs and deserves it… But nothing extravagant." She narrowed her eyes at him seriously. "No extra floors, no gold plating, and no marble…"

He frowned. "An extra floor would just be smart building."

Rolling her eyes, she let him go and turned around, returning to climbing the stairs.

"And marble floors are classy," he added.

She snorted, glancing at him over her shoulder and cocking a brow.

"We could get a solid gold plate to hang on your door," He held his hands out to emphasize the rectangular shape. "Chloe Sullivan: Journalist Extraordinaire."

"You're not funny," she sing-songed back to him.

He screwed up his nose, grinning. "Kinda funny," he argued.

She paused at the top of the stairs and waited for him to meet her before they walked down the hall where an arrow pointed them toward the Editor in Chief.

Just before they reached the door, Oliver glanced at her, probing, "What are we gonna say if she offers us a job?"

Chloe smiled at him. "Only if Oliver gets to be my personal assistant."

He frowned. "I bet the pay is awful."

She scoffed. "Who said we'd _pay_ you? The privilege should be enough."

With a chuckle, he reached out to knock on the door.

* * *

Oliver glanced at his buzzing cell phone that sat atop the white table cloth, his good mood fading slightly.

Chloe lifted a brow. Dinner had been going well; after their drop-in at the Daily Planet, where Pauline Kahn made a pretty good, though pointless, pitch for her to move over and take up a corner office with her own headline, they'd stopped by the Metropolis Museum. Hours were spent moving from exhibit to exhibit, discussing art pieces and comparing it to many museums they'd visited in the past; often during their trips out of town. While Oliver was usually bogged down with Queen Industries meetings, Chloe, when she had the time to join him, took up sight-seeing. And when he was finished with his many board meetings, they would meet up and debate art, history and what it all meant.

Now they were enjoying dinner at Metropolis' highly acclaimed and boasted steakhouse. Red wine had been poured and she was feeling a nice buzz that seemed to soothe her nerves over current events. It wasn't just that the city was still in such disrepair and working hard to fix it, but that Lex Luthor could very well be the reason behind it and they had people on the case, looking for a way to figure it all out for them. She wasn't used to not getting her hands dirty; usually it was her, Oliver, and the team working all the angles and putting it in somebody else's hands just put her on edge.

Her belly full and her wine glass near empty, she was enjoying her time with Oliver, however. It seemed no matter the situation, good or bad, mysterious or solved, he always made her feel comfortable, at ease; as if she wasn't hours away from home, in a city she didn't know well, surrounded by destruction and a possible _alien_ angle.

"Still in _Stalk_ mode, or have they moved on to extraction?" Chloe wondered, cocking an eyebrow.

Lips pursed, Oliver lifted his gaze from the phone to meet hers. "He's at Luthorcorp now… They're in place and they think they can get him out quietly."

His trouble expression had her leaning forward, bracing her elbows on the table. She stared at her best friend thoughtfully. "Regretting the outside help or…?"

His jaw ticked and a long sigh expelled from him. "I think we've spent so long cleaning up messes in Star City that to hand it over to anyone else feels like we're slacking…" A half-smile curved his lips. "Even _if_ today has been great, just you and me enjoying what Metropolis has to offer..."

She nodded slowly. "We're hands-on people, Ollie… And if this falls through, I can almost guarantee we'll both feel like it's because we weren't there to oversee things."

He sat back, frowning. "So we call them off or we wait to see what they get?" He tapped his fingers against the phone wonderingly.

"There's no lessons learned if we don't make mistakes… Let them go ahead; for all we know, we're worrying over nothing." She shrugged, even if a pit in her stomach had begun to grow. "But if they screw up, you keep your word… Our team and no outsiders."

He nodded shortly. "You wanna shake on it or should I sign my name in blood?"

She grinned. "Blood pact feels so old-school… Just sell me your soul and we'll leave it at that."

His eyes brightened with humor. "Is that all? One little soul?"

She lifted her glass to him. "Make a deal with the devil, Queen…"

His hand curled around the stem of his own glass. "From where I'm sitting… You're the angel on my shoulder."

"This angel's got a crooked halo," she warned.

He smirked, clinking their glasses. "Looks good on her," he assured warmly.

* * *

A couple hours later, they were sitting in his less-than-homey penthouse apartment when he got the call. A smirk drew up the corners of his mouth and he turned in his corner seat of the couch to call out to her in the kitchen. "Hey Chlo, guess who didn't want to wait for that breakfast date tomorrow…?"

With a snort, Chloe appeared in the doorway, leaning against it. "Lois is here?" She shook her head, smiling. "What part of 'I will see you tomorrow,' did she not get?"

"The part where you were in town _all day_ and didn't invite her for shopping on Ollie's dime," Lois chimed from behind them.

Their eyes moved to meet her.

Hands on her hips, she looked from her cousin to Oliver. "Hello! You're in _my_ city and you don't even buy me _three square meals?_ This reporter has to eat!"

Oliver scoffed. "Last I heard, the Inquisitor was still paying you for all those typos."

Eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips in his direction. "Don't think I'm not still going to try and convince you that the world would be a better place if I was housed in that _über_ expensive and luxurious spa you sent us to, but _seriously_ , you get her three-hundred and sixty three days out of the year… When you visit, there should be Chlo-Lo time… and _lots of it!_ " Crossing her arms over her chest, she amended, "Admittedly, since you're moving here, there's bound to be more cousin time anyway, but—"

"Moving here?" Chloe interjected, head cocked. "Who said we were-?"

"The paper," Lois interrupted. " _Oliver Queen and Girlfriend Set Up House In Metropolis_ … It's been running all day; there's a _blog_ dedicated to it."

Her brows furrowed. " _One_ visit and we've _moved?_ "

Oliver bit his lip to keep from grinning. "So I'll have my publicist print a retraction… And my apologies, Lois. Visiting without feeding you or letting you have… _Chloe_ time won't happen again."

She pouted. "Wait, so you're _not_ moving here?"

Chloe snorted. "No. _But_ …" She half-smiled. "We'll probably be visiting a lot more. Oliver has some business here and with Dark Thursday there's a lot of questions I'm sure Jim will want me to ask…"

Lois frowned. "We'll see… And about the _unforgiveable_ act of not including me _all day_ … I can be bought with an express ticked back to The Lodge…" Suddenly looking more hopeful than upset, she lifted her hands in a pleading gesture. "Come on, Ollie! Cut a bound-to-be cousin-in-law a break!"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that we are _not_ getting married?"

"I dunno… A June wedding wouldn't be bad…" Oliver mused teasingly. "We could elope; send back pictures for Lois to drool over… What d'you think about Morocco? Bungalow on the beach."

" _Send pictures_?" Lois was outraged. "Uh, _no!_ I've been rooting for your Harry-and-Sally friendship-begets-epic-love from the beginning and I _refuse_ to be an outsider looking in!"

Chloe rubbed the furrow at her brow, feeling a headache coming on. "Why, _why_ are you encouraging her?"

Oliver could only grin. "Green bridesmaid dresses. Maybe Christy from the Gazette could be your maid of honor," he suggested.

Lois literally gasped. "Oh. _No_. You. _Didn't!_ " She marched toward him, looking angry enough to attack. "Maid of honor's been my role since we were pre-teens salivating over JTT, so don't even _go_ there, Queen!"

With a laugh, he sat back into the couch and just sighed, hearty amusement evident.

"Lois…" Chloe sighed. "We're not getting married. _Ever_. And this Harry-and-Sally theory of yours is getting old. So how about, since you're obviously _staying_ , I make a bowl of popcorn and we catch up?"

Eyes narrowed and lip stuck out in a pout, her shoulders slumped. " _Fine…_ But I wanna know what's so important that you couldn't spare a few hours to visit me at the Inquisitor."

Oliver raised his brows. "And if we go with the assumption that you were busy covering Dark Thursday…?"

"Not gonna fly. My paper covers alien conspiracies, not _real_ news," she told him rather smugly.

"It's _shocking_ you don't have a Pulitzer of your own," he returned with a completely straight face.

"Shut up," she muttered. "And spill the beans…" She looked between them. "You have a _scoop_ , don't you?"

"I'm gonna go make popcorn," Chloe decided, leaving them to their bickering debate. But as she made it into the kitchen, she frowned. "Uh, Ollie…?"

"Groceries should be stocked. Best guess where the popcorn is," he replied knowingly.

With a shrug, she went in search and hoped that after the three and half minutes of popcorn stand-by, she'd return to a living room where Lois Lane _wasn't_ ready to interrogate them about their business in Metropolis.

No such luck.

A half an hour after Lois arrived, Oliver decided he'd leave them alone for their _girl talk_. Kissing Chloe's forehead and Lois' cheek in goodnight, he made his escape to his bedroom.

Lois watched him go with a suggestive grin. "So… You two sharing the bed or what?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Yes, we have mad, passionate love to all hours of the night; it's the stuff Harlequin was built on," she said, dead-pan.

She frowned at her. "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

Her brows quirked. "Uh, the fact that I live in _reality_ with Oliver and there has been no love-making whatsoever _could_ be behind it…"

She sat up smugly. "Except for those _dreams_ of yours…" She wiggled her brows.

Chloe felt a flush hit her cheeks. "Lois…" she said, warningly. "We discussed this… Even the psychiatrist I saw said it was just a comfort thing."

"Pfft!" she scoffed. "What does _he_ know?"

"Whatever his many years of college taught him, I would assume." Standing from her seat on the couch, she walked toward the kitchen to put the empty popcorn bowl in the sink.

Lois was quick at her heels. " _College_ hasn't been watching you two get closer over the years. _College_ doesn't see how Oliver looks at you or you at him. _And_ it doesn't see how much you lean on each other, how you finish each other's thoughts, how—"

"Okay!" She turned quickly, staring at her cousin seriously. "I get it. You think Ollie and I are soul mates of some epic love story, but _Lois_ …" She sighed. "Even if that was true, even if some part of me —deep, _deep_ down— was in love with my _best friend_ …" She shook her head meaningfully. "I would never risk what we have on the _slight_ chance that we _might_ work out…"

Lois, ever determined, reached out and gripped her shoulders, giving her a good shake for emphasis. "Not _might_ , cuz… _Will_."

Giving her an indulgent smile, she shook her head. "I love Oliver, I do… Just not the way you want me to."

Frowning, Lois let her go. "You're stubborn and you wanna fight this, reason it out, pro-and-con list it to death, I get it… But I know what I'm seeing… I know that whatever it is between you, it's not _just_ friendship. And you could save yourself a long period of denial and regret if you'd just _see it_ already." With that, she turned and left, leaving a stunned and contemplative Chloe behind.

* * *

It was just after five in the morning when Lois woke her up, shaking her shoulder hard and rousing her from her sleep in the spare bedroom.

"L-Lo?" She sat up, squinting through the darkness. "I told you… You kick in your sleep. It's either the couch or you can take a cab home," she muttered.

"I _do not_ kick… And that's not why I'm waking you up." She paused for drama and then whisper-exclaimed, "Cuz, I just got the tip of a _lifetime_!"

Chloe let her eyes slide back closed and wrinkled her nose. "And you had to wake me up _because…?_ "

"Because linking your Pulitzer prize winning name to mine will give me more credit," she admitted honestly. "Now get dressed… You and me gotta date with Lex Luthor's captors."

Chloe was about to argue when she paused suddenly. "Did you just say Lex Luthor?"

Lois smirked back. "He was kidnapped… and I know _just_ where to find him."

Only one word went through Chloe's mind right then… _Crap_.

* * *

 

Lois made her dress in the dark; for some ridiculous reason she thought that having the light on would wake Oliver up. Never mind the fact that he was in a different room with his door closed and that she very well knew that the only thing that would wake Ollie was some sort of attack. A light was not going to trip his instincts up. Now, tip-toeing through the apartment while Lois tried to navigate in the dark and knocked over various pieces of furniture,  _that_ might've had him sitting up in bed and wondering what was going on.

"Remind me again why Oliver can't join us on this wild goose chase?" Chloe wondered. In all honesty, she wanted to go back, wake her best friend up and hope he had a good excuse to get Lois to go back to sleep and forget she ever heard anything about Lex Luthor and his supposed kidnapping.

" _Because_ … what's a billionaire CEO know about sleuthing?" she scoffed.

Entirely too much. But Chloe couldn't exactly  _tell_ her that without bringing into question their duo identities. Besides, some curious part of her wanted to know just what these henchmen she and Oliver had hired were doing… She trusted her team, but these guys were outsiders and regardless of whether or not they promised to keep away from violence unless necessary, she wasn't going to bet her lifesavings that they actually kept their word. Best case scenario, they already fished the information out of Lex and left him back at his mansion so she and Lois would be walking into a very empty abandoned warehouse that said cousin would never live down dragging her very asleep cousin to for a crap tip.

There were entirely too many  _worst case_ scenarios for her to begin hashing out.

"Are we taking a  _cab_ to this place?" Chloe wondered skeptically. "Because my car is back in—" She frowned, seeing the gleam in Lois' eyes as it landed on one of Oliver's spare cars for driving around town when he visited Metropolis. Her eyes narrowed. "Lois…" she said warningly. "We aren't taking Ollie's new Aston Martin to check out a kidnapping tip."

Her shoulders slumped. "Fine. What about the…" Her eyes lit up. "Bentley?"

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're no fun… The Audi it is then," she sighed, walking toward the shiny black car.

"We don't even have  _keys_ ," she protested, half-hopefully.

Lois scoffed, kneeling down next to the driver's door. "Watch and learn, little cuz…"

Before Lois could set off an alarm, she bee-lined it for a lockbox against the wall and plugged in the six digit access code, popping open the door and taking out the keys labeled  _Audi '06_  before she closed and locked it back up. "Just so we're clear… Anything happens to the car, it's coming out of  _your_ paychecks."

With a roll of her eyes, Lois caught the keys Chloe tossed to her, unlocked the door and climbed in. As her cousin took the seat next to her, she turned the ignition and reminded her, "You could blow up half the city and he'd forgive you… Why do  _I_ have to take the blame when it's so much easier for you to?"

She pursed her lips. "Because you'll never learn your lesson if you don't."

"Well in the case, thanks  _mom_ …" she snickered. "Now buckle up; we've only got so much time before something goes wrong and I lose my headline."

Chloe had barely pulled the seatbelt down before Lois was speeding out of the underground parking lot of Queen Towers and well on her way toward where Lex was apparently being held up. She cursed her sleep laden mind that she didn't grab her cell on the way out and couldn't at least text Oliver and see if he could run interference somehow. Neither could she get a hold of any of the other team members, like Bart who was likely still hanging around town.

Biting her lip, she glanced at her excited cousin and crossed her fingers this wouldn't blow up in their faces.

* * *

The warehouse they pulled up in front of fit the bill for dark, old and creepy. The morning sun had dawned, giving them a better view of their surroundings and for that Chloe was thankful. Going in blind and without backup was a big no-no. It was strictly forbidden in her side line-of-work and though Lois was with her, she wouldn't call her cousin the best person to watch her back in this situation.

Her eyes spread across the garbage littered asphalt. Three vehicles stood out; one black range rover, a large white one-ton, and a dark sedan. There was little else for signs of life; no guards standing lookout like she had half-expected.

Lois parked behind an overflowing dumpster and hopped out, bouncing from foot to foot as if to both keep out the early morning chill and reign in her excitement.

With a grin, she wondered, "Is it just me or is this abandoned factory a little too  _full_ to be called empty?" She glanced at Chloe, lifting her brows for emphasis. "Screw the Inquisitor; I'll have my own desk at the DP when we get through here."

Chloe offered a smile. "Lois, we're not even sure what's going on in there."

"Right," she scoffed. "Because  _Neighborhood Watch_  regularly camps out in creepy warehouses…" She rolled her eyes and started toward the vehicles. "Edge City plates," she murmured thoughtfully. "The sedan's from Metropolis though…" She pursed her lips. "You don't think somebody else is here trying to scoop us, do you?" She didn't bother waiting for a reply, instead heading toward the door inside.

"Lois," Chloe whispered warningly. "You don't know what kind of security there is. You could—" She came to a stop suddenly, her brows heavy atop her eyes. Feet, sticking out from behind a pile of debris. Expensive black shoes and pressed pants covered in browning banana peels and other nameless waste. Forgetting her cousin for a moment, she ran toward the fallen body, silently hoping,  _desperately_ , that she wasn't about to find Lex Luthor. Yes, she could admit to hating what he did and how he did it. She could admit to feeling like Lex Luthor was the scum that her and her team were doing all they could to eradicate. But nowhere in their hero code did it condone murder and if the people she and Oliver had hired to find out why Lex was so  _invincible_ that Dark Thursday had  _killed_ him… the blood would equally be spread to their hands.

She was hesitant to withdraw the cover from his face. Worried, even sick to her stomach, about what she might see. But curiosity got the better of her, the desire to know for sure had her fingers reaching, moving, and finally a face was shown to her. A face will a bullet pierced through it; a single drop of dried blood imprinted down the side of a black man's shaved head. Not Lex, but still a human being. Somebody had died here and that meant things had gotten out of control. She searched his person, checking pockets, and found a wallet with his ID inside. Robert Pontius. She frowned, wiped her prints off it and put it back on him. She would call it in as soon as she found out just what happened and made sure her cousin wasn't—

Her cousin.

Damn it.

Chloe whirled around, eyes scanning for Lois, and found the immediate vicinity empty; the door to the warehouse just a few inches ajar.

"Lois," she sighed, flying to her feet and rushing after her.

The door creaked ever so lightly as she drew it open, but the sound felt like a thousand horns pointed in her direction. Heart hammering like it often did when she and Oliver were out patrolling Star City, she hurried quietly through the building. Lighting was scarce, giving her surroundings a bluish glow. In the distance, she could see a brighter setting; she could hear voices and knew that who she was looking for had congregated in a specific corner.

Without her hood, her suit, she felt foolish, more mortal than ever. It wasn't as if her outfit could make her invincible but it certainly helped in the ego boost department. She moved silently, from box to box, cover to cover, and found herself close enough to hear the conversation and make out faces. What appeared to be its own little laboratory, caged with chain-link fence, Lex was imprisoned inside and locked down on a steel bed. Not far from him stood Wagner and an unknown but equally dressed man. Cohorts.

All-black jumpsuits and Kevlar vests reminded her that these guys were no amateurs, one of the reasons they'd been hired. She hadn't seen Lex since she was much younger; just thirteen and ever the snarky teenager who held a nasty grudge. He hadn't changed much; still the same long, lanky body and bald head. Only now he was bleeding; a wound in his shoulder that she'd put money on was from a bullet. Her jaw ticked and she knew then that she and Oliver would never forget their mistake in hiring outside their team.

She still couldn't spot Lois, but she strained her ears to hear exactly what was being said. If she had to blow her cover and save Lex, she would, but only if necessary. The footage she'd seen made her skeptical, made her judgment skew. It wasn't regular, wasn't usual; nobody was riddled with bullets and didn't drop like a fly. They didn't pick themselves up and continue on breathing. It was unnatural. But that wasn't what bothered her most; it wasn't that there were people out there who were different. The fact that she ran around with a bunch of leather-toting vigilantes spoke of just how different  _she_ was. It was what Lex Luthor could do with that kind of invincibility; it was the knowledge that something as lethal as a gun couldn't take him down and she had no idea what could. They weren't prepared for that and so they needed to understand just what they were up against, what could be coming.

Wagner's partner was tall, bulky. He had a cocky set to his mouth and the way he paced around Lex's exhausted frame made him look like a caged animal waiting to attack.

He stomped a circle around Lex, his head cocked. The gun in his twitching hand made Chloe uneasy, made her question more and more the decision to hire outside help.

"What is it that turns a… weak, hairless punk into some superhuman  _Goliath?_ " he wondered, stopping just to the left of the steel bed.

"I honestly don't know," Lex replied.

He sneered. "Well I honestly don't believe you…" Dark eyes stared down at Lex's sweating, flushed face. "We know Luthorcorp conducts research involving genetically-enhanced human strength."

Lex sighed, turning to face him.

"Now you obviously did  _something_ to yourself." He pursed his lips. "What was it?"

"You really wanna know?" He swallowed thickly. "A being from another dimension —actually, another  _planet_ — inhabited my body, gave me powers." He inhaled thickly between his teeth. "It sounds ridiculous but it's true… When he left me, powers went with him. That's it. That's all I know."

For one stark moment, Chloe felt things shift into place. She swore, as bizarre as it all sounded, it sounded almost…  _true_. Then again, Lex was a master manipulator and for all she knew, it was some ridiculous bogus story he made up in hopes of snaring an audience. Not the best lie to go with; Chloe definitely thought she could've done better, but she supposed there were only so many reasons for super-human strength.

Apparently unconvinced, the man drew his gun up sharp beneath Lex's jaw, digging it into his neck. "Are you…  _mocking_ me?"

Chloe's  _hero_ instinct kicked in, but before she could go in unannounced, flashing her face for all to see, including the bald Luthor she'd had a hand in kidnapping, she circled the boxes and started looking for a better vantage point… and a weapon.

"Now why would I mock a guy who just  _shot me?_ " Lex snapped back.

"Y'know the first gunshot was a minor flesh-wound,  _Lex_."

While his attention was elsewhere, Chloe darted across the floor to another covered position, keeping herself low. If she could get to the table not ten feet away, she'd have a gun of her own, and she'd be far enough behind Lex's view that he wouldn't even be able to ID her. A small favor in the form of a head restraint.

Her luck ran out quick, however.

A noise rustled in the background; stacked boxes falling over and drawing attention.

Eyes all moved in their direction, with the armed man lifting said gun and whistling high and loud. "Who's out there?" Not bothering to wait for a reply, he shot once, twice at the unseen racket maker.

Chloe's chest caved, her eyes darting to and fro. Lois was out there.

"Block," Wagner exclaimed, glancing from him to the mess of toppled boxes. "Probably just a rat."

Block, not so easily appeased, ordered, "Go look!"

Wagner hesitated for only a moment before doing just as he was told.

Chloe held her breath, hoping her cousin managed to get out of the way and well into a better hiding place.

Heels on pavement told her that her cousin wasn't quite as silent as she hoped to be. Block followed the noise with his raised arm and started firing without preamble.

Cursing under her breath, Chloe darted for the table and the spare gun that sat atop it. She wrapped her hand around the foreign grip and turned toward Block, who was now empty and ready to reload the magazine. But something inside her was hesitant to pull the trigger.

"Jesus, stop!" Wagner told him, glaring.

He, at least, stopped firing. "Get out there and find them!" Block told him.

"I'm going. Put the gun down."

"No. No way," he argued, shaking his head. His lips curled in a sneer. "I'll bet you it's Baldy's girlfriend…" He smirked then and turned toward Lex. "Let's see how many Alien Invasion stories you got when she's the one getting shot." He shook his head. "Y'know what, even if it's not, we should pick her up, have her join in the fun."

Panicked, Lex looked out into the warehouse and then back at Block. "All right!" He panted thickly. "All right, you win. There's a serum. It's in a lab on the 33rd floor in Luthorcorp. It's in the vault in the center cabinet. Code is Julian452." His eyes darted away once more. "Just don't hurt her. Please."

Block cocked his head thoughtfully and then turned to stare at Wagner. "Go… Find her. And then get that serum."

Frowning, Wagner nodded sharply in return.

Chloe waited with bated breath; part of her hated the idea of using the gun. She was trained in hand-to-hand combat and she put down perps without ever having to resort to killing them. If Oliver were there, he'd be able to take them out with a sleeping gas arrow and all would be well. But Oliver wasn't there and Wagner, who she wasn't even sure was an ally anymore, was out there hunting down Lex's  _supposed_ girlfriend, who was really Lois… Time was wasting.

Suddenly, she heard the struggle. She heard her cousin's snarky voice, "Lemme go, Combat Ken!"

If she got in there and she wasn't of value to Block, Chloe knew she'd be killed.

She cocked the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Block turned toward her in the same split-second that her finger squeezed, but he didn't raise his gun quick enough. The bullet pierced his shoulder but it hardly slowed him down. He reached for the bleeding hole with his good arm but as he bent, Lex used it to his advantage and head butted him hard in the face. Angry, he raised his gun as if to kill Lex and Chloe didn't hesitate, taking a second shot, hitting his gun arm. Howling in pain, Block's finger pulled the trigger and the gun fired three shots in various directions, eventually hitting something flammable. The explosion was enough to throw Block off his feet; he flew back into a table, sending it topping backward, and landed hard on the ground, knocking his head back against the pavement, leaving him unconscious.

Flames erupted high just a few feet to Lex's left and the spreading liquid was helping them.

On the other side of the fencing, Chloe could see Wagner and Lois, staring on in surprise.

Chloe rushed to Lex's metal bed and pulled the pins out that held down either arm, cursing and questioning her actions even as she did so. She couldn't help but hope the smoke was helping to hide her identity. With his arms released, Lex worked on getting his legs free while Chloe turned to leave. She jogged out of the cage, rushed around and grabbed Lois' free hand, leaving Lex and Wagner to deal with the aftermath. However, just as she and Lois broke away from them, boards and debris fell, blocking the exit from the cage. Fire was consuming one half of the cage and her gut nagged at her. She might not like Lex or what he did but she couldn't let him die. "Lois, go outside and call for help!" she ordered, shoving her cousin.

"What?" Baffled, Lois came to a stop and stared at her like she was crazy. "And leave you here? No! You're coming with me!"

"Lois!" she yelled sternly. "Go!"

There was a moment, a split-second, when her cousin stared at her as if she wanted to argue 'What can  _you_ do?' but she didn't and she listened. With a short nod, she turned and rushed toward the door leading back outside.

Chloe ran back toward the cage, meeting Wagner half way.

"Is there another exit?" she asked, point-blank.

"There's an emergency hatch at the top," he replied.

"Tell  _him_ that," she said, motioning to Lex as he battled the chain-link fence with whatever he could get his hands on, to no avail.

Wagner grabbed the fence and shook it to get Lex's attention. "Look up!" he yelled.

Though confused by the help, Lex lifted his head, his eyes landing on the hatch.

Chloe found the wall box where the fire extinguisher was meant to be, empty. Cursing, she turned to Wagner and scowled. "Just so you know, you're  _fired!_ "

He frowned back at her but didn't argue.

Lex found a metal desk and shoved the contents to the floor. He shoved against it hard but it was slow-moving. Even with the wheels on the end, it was too heavy.

Sighing, she gripped the chain-links in her hand and began climbing.

"What are you  _doing?_ " Wagner asked.

"What's it  _look_ like?" she snarked. "He can't get out of there on his own." She was halfway up when a wooden beam fell to the side, the flames licking high and thick and too close for her to ignore. The heat was too much and she had to backtrack. Shoving back, she jumped from the fence and landed back on the ground. Angry, both herself and the situation, her eyes began scanning the room once more. "We have to find another way!"

"There  _is_ no other way," Wagner told her. He began backing up. "We either stay and die with him or we save ourselves."

Chloe's jaw ticked. "What happened to No Man Left Behind?"

"He's not one of mine," he replied stonily.

She laughed humorlessly, pointing inside the cage vigorously. "No, but the crazy guy who started all this  _is!_ "

"Block may've been crazy, but it's you and Oliver that started this mess…" he argued.

She glared back at him. "Then save yourself," she told him before turning back around. "But murder wasn't in the contract… So don't come looking for the other half of your pay."

Wagner stared at her a long hard second, but finally dropped his eyes to the ground, turned and ran.

Lex, unable to get out through the hatch, slunk back to the corner of the cage, and panting, stared acceptingly at the oncoming fire. Calm came across his features, he wasn't about to let his fear show.

She had to give him credit for his courage.

Despite the smoke that swirled around them, the heat that hit her in her waves, she refused to leave. This was partly her fault; if she had never hired Wagner, he wouldn't have hired Block, and they wouldn't have kidnapped Lex, which means Lois wouldn't have come looking for a by-line, gotten herself caught, and Chloe wouldn't have had to shoot Block, resulting in him starting a fire and trapping Lex inside. Really, she was partly to blame, two-fold. Somehow, she just didn't think saying sorry would amount to anything, but that didn't stop her from wanting to say it, to feel it.

Lex was going to die; his evil would go with him. Whatever he did, whatever he might've planned, it would all die with him. But there was still a human life in there and she would be at fault for his death.

 _Murderer_.

Then, as if by some divine intervention, the fire went out. A gust of air rushed in so thick that it literally blew out the fire. Safe and sound in the corner of the cage knelt a shocked Lex Luthor, his eyes darting to and fro, searching for his savior. Chloe had enough clarity to back up into the shadows of the warehouse, even as her mind worked a mile a minute trying to work out just what happened. Whatever just saved Lex had done her a favor, but that didn't mean she wanted her identity or her part in all this known.

Making her way outside, Chloe saw Lois in the distance, leaning against her car, quickly writing things down on a scrap piece of paper she found. With a slight smile, she shook her head. She was about to walk over to her when she spotted Wagner, still waiting outside the building. Her brows furrowed. "You better get out of here before they start asking questions." Very faintly, she could hear the cops and ambulances in the distance.

Wagner nodded shortly, looked away, and then back at her.

"What?" she asked, pursing her lips.

He seemed to struggle with whether or not to tell her before finally asked, "Did you see him?"

"See him? See  _who?_ " she asked, cocking her brow.

"There was a guy… He-He came in an-and  _blew_ out the fire."

Her eyes narrowed. "I thought you  _left…_ "

"I did… Or, I was…" He shook his head. "I was coming back. I thought, together, maybe we could find a way to get him out… But then there was a guy there and he just…  _breathed_  and the whole fire was…  _extinguished._ "

Chloe's brows furrowed deeply. "He  _breathed?_ "

Wagner nodded, a serious look darkening his face. "Like he had powers… Similar to those Lex had."

She turned her head away thoughtfully, gazing at the ground.

But as the sirens in the distance rose, she snapped out of it. "Oliver will expect to see you… You can tell him about… _whatever_ it was you saw."

Wagner nodded before stepping back and making his way toward the Range Rover.

"Hey, cuz!" Lois called out, rushing across the space between them. "This is going to make me the second legit journalist in the family!" she exclaimed.

Chloe grinned. "Lo… You've been writing for the Inquisitor for awhile now."

"Okay, emphasis on the  _Legit_ part," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Snorting, Chloe wrapped an arm around her and walked her back to the car. "Come on, let's head back into town… Oliver's probably  _freaking out_ right now."

"What? No way! The fire's still raging; all the good stuff's about to happen." She raised her hands in the air to outline a headline, " _Will He or Won't He Live? Billionaire Lex Luthor Trapped in a Fire_."

"He's fine. Fire's out," Chloe replied, nodding.

"Oh." Lois pouted, looking disappointed. "Really? That's it…? I was hoping for some Jaws of Life action."

"That's on  _cars_ …"

She shrugged. "Would've been cool… Really would've added something to my piece, don't you think?"

She shook her head, amused. "You don't think you have enough?"

Lois winked at her, dragging the car door open. "The more the better… plus I get paid per word."

Sighing to herself, Chloe climbed in the car. Her cousin was one of a kind… she only hoped she could convince her to leave any glimpse of Chloe Sullivan out of her big  _legitimate_ debut.

* * *

The elevator led Lionel Luthor to the top floor of Queen Towers. Pushing the cage door open, he stepped inside and searched the room with his pensive eyes. In his arm he held a rectangular chest; a  _welcoming_ gift for the Queen heir. He circled the metal desk that sat center in the room, noticing the two pictures frames that lined the top. One was of a young Oliver Queen in the arms of his parents, the Queen Industries yacht in the background. Smiling, he shook his head before moving on to the other picture, his eyes narrowing at the photo of Oliver and Chloe, grinning wide for the camera, dressed down in jeans and sweaters, faces flush with the cold of last year's December weather.

Unbeknownst to him, Oliver stood silently in the shadows behind him, watching.

"Lionel Luthor," he greeted, letting his presence be known. He walked the landing that bordered the clock face of his tower. "All those hostile takeovers haven't aged you a bit," he snarked, smirking. Stepping down the stairs, he tucked his hands away in his pockets and cocked a brow. "Tell me, what's your secret?"

Lionel laughed. "Yeah, well, perhaps I should give some credit to a nightly  _nip_." He drew the chest out and unsnapped the sides. "This, uh, 40-year-old Highland Scotch certainly helps to soothe the stress." He looked down at the label. "I vigorously recommend it." Returning his gaze to Oliver, he held out the bottle. " _Welcome_ to Metropolis, Oliver."

Taking the gift, he tipped it in Lionel's direction. "That's a nice gesture." Looking it over, he walked to the table behind his desk to place the bottle down. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, should I? You've always been  _so_ generous."

Lionel walked away from him slowly, his hands tucked it his trench coat. Chin raised, eyes scanning the room, he called back, "You know Oliver, when I read in the papers—" He lifted his arms to emphasis the headline, " _Oliver Queen Moves to Metropolis…_ I was very curious." Arms tucked behind back. "You've made such a  _name_ for yourself in Star City,  _why_ would you relocate?" He turned to face him, his expression rather demanding an answer.

Leaning back against the stairwell banister, Oliver replied, "They might've jumped the gun on that one… A friend of mine was offered a job at the Daily Planet, I thought I'd give her a personal tour, see if it was more her style." He shrugged. "We won't be staying… but I think it's grown on the both of us. We'll be sure to visit…  _Often_."

"Your  _friend_ …" he repeated, nodding. "Miss. Sullivan, I assume."

Oliver pursed his lips slightly. "Pulitzer Prize winning journalist," he said, nodding.

"Your choice in company has matured…" He allowed a slight smile. "For such a…  _smart_ woman, she has quite the blind spot in  _you_ , doesn't she?"

His face became unreadable. "We all have our blind spots, Lionel."

Eyes slitted, he frowned darkly. "You had a chance to touch base with my son yet?" he wondered, advancing toward him slowly.

"Haven't had a chance. Been meaning to." His brow furrowed. "How is old Lex doing, by the way? Has he finally managed to step out of your shadow?"

"Oh, he's changed a lot since your, uh,  _boarding school_ days together…"

"Hmm." He stood forward from his position against the banister. "Well, we all have." He inhaled thoughtfully. "Y'know Lionel, you've inspired me." He nodded, his brow furrowed. "I'm gonna give him a call. Yeah… I'll call him today."

"You could have a hard time reaching him. Lex,  _it seems_ , has been  _abducted_."

Oliver's brows rose. "Been abducted…? My god…" he said in a droll monotone.

"Oh.  _Oh_ , Oliver…" He pointed at him. "I remember…" He crossed his arms over his chest. "In the, um, Excelsior School plays, you were always so good." He took a couple steps toward him, his expression dark, "So convincing."

Oliver smiled. "Lionel, I'm involved in a lot of business ventures, as you know. But I can assure you…" He took a step forward so they were face to face. "Kidnapping is not one of them." He shook his head slowly.

Silently, they stared at each other a moment.

"I remember you have an unpleasant history with my son." His forehead furled. "And I know Queen Industries had the only working satellite on Dark Thursday."

"Hmm." He half-smiled.

Lionel shook his head. "I know, I know Oliver, you've suffered through  _a lot_  in your young life. But if you have so much… as laid a  _hand_  on Lex, the word  _suffer_ will take on a whole new meaning to you…" His eyes darted away and then returned to him. "With the way of the world these days, I might keep Miss. Sullivan close at hand." With that, he turned to walk back to the elevator.

Oliver's eyes narrowed, his jaw ticking. "Sounds like a  _threat_ ," he said, following after him.

"You said yourself, Oliver… We all have our blind spots and there's no telling what our  _enemies_  will do to exploit them… What  _lengths_ they will go to, what people might be hurt in the crosshairs…" He shook his head. "It's a dangerous business we work in."

"And to think I thought all you suits were boring, once upon a time," Chloe's voice interjected from behind.

Eyes narrowing, Lionel turned to meet her and present a warm smile and a hand for her to shake. "Miss. Sullivan… Are my congratulations on your Pultizer too late?"

"Never too late for congratulations or apologies," she returned, shaking his hand briefly.

His brows furrowed but then he nodded, half-smiling. "Gabriel Sullivan, wasn't it? That's right, your father was once a worker of mine… And to think, if I hadn't had to let him go all those years ago, you and Mr. Queen might never have met."

Chloe moved to stand at Oliver's side. "Hm, fate has a sense of humor."

Lionel followed her with thin eyes. "Yes… There are days when it becomes ironic…" He nodded shortly. "Well, before we get maudlin on the days of past, many of which are best  _left_ there," he said, cutting his eyes to Oliver, "I believe it's time I return home and wait for word on my son." He nodded to them both and began walking to the elevator.

"You mean Lex?" Chloe called out, drawing his attention once more.

Lionel turned in the confines of the elevator. "You know him?"

"In a manner of speaking…" Her brows furrowed. "Haven't you heard?" She half-smiled. "It's all over the news… Lex was found in some abandoned factory. A little smoke inhalation and a gun-shot wound, but… his kidnapper was found dead, so there's not likely to be much of an investigation." She stared at him thoughtfully. "Our condolences to you and your family, Mr. Luthor."

"Mm," he said, nodding, his expression tight. "Have a  _pleasant_ stay in Metropolis, Oliver… Miss. Sullivan." He reached for the cage door. "However  _brief_ it is."

As the lights above the elevator told them of his descent, Oliver turned toward her worriedly. "Where have you  _been?_ "

She sighed, long and loud. "Let's just say that Lois got a scoop and thought taking me along was a great idea… Too bad I was the bad guy." Stripping her jacket off, she tossed it over his desk and started for the main apartment.

He followed after her. "I woke up this morning and neither of you were here! When Lionel showed up I started considering the idea that he might've had you and Lois kidnapped as collateral."

She snorted, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Ollie… You really think they could extract me without my making any noise?" She stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of water. "For that matter, you really think  _Lois_ would've been quiet?"

His brows furrowed. "Valid points, but they weren't really coming up when he was smugly making backhanded comments about you."

She frowned. "Like what?"

"Does it matter?" He sighed, leaning back against the counter and looked her up and down. "Are you all right?"

After guzzling back half the bottle of water, she nodded. "Fine… Although, and I'm only saying this for our future benefit, this was quite possibly the worst idea either of us have ever had."

He half-smiled. "I dunno… Might've been worth it just to see Lionel squirm."

She rolled her eyes. "Sounds to me like you were doing a fair bit of squirming yourself."

He pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. "So it's not without its downsides."

Snorting, she hopped up onto the cabinet and leaned against the cool fridge. "You wanna hear about my less than spectacular morning?"

"With one dead and another shot?" he mused, nodding. "Please, tell me… and leave nothing out."

She inhaled deeply, ready to tell him the whole crazy saga.

* * *

Later that night, Chloe sat atop the ledge overlooking the city. Her eyes left the landscape to take in Oliver, wearing one of his favorite crisp, white suits, fiddling with his bow, trying to get the alignment right.

There was a chill in the air that might've encouraged her to go inside and pull on a coat if it weren't for the fact that she was studiously searching for any sight of the stars.

"I forgot just how bright it is here," she murmured, frowning. She shivered against a breeze but continued to glare up at the sky. "Barely a day and I'm already missing home."

"We'll be out of Metropolis soon… but since this was wrapped up as quick as it was, I was hoping you'd be up for a little more globe-trotting." He glanced over at her. "Pick a place and we'll see how the crime fairs."

She rolled her eyes. "What a pitch… I'll Google a list of the worst slums and we'll get cracking."

He grinned. "We'll get some sightseeing in, don't worry." Laying his bow down for a moment, he shrugged his jacket off, walked across to her and draped it around her shoulders. Kneeling next to her, he pulled it closed around her crossed arms. He half-grinned, nodding at her. "Name the place and we go tonight."

"With no goodbye to Lois?" She scoffed. "She'll have your head on a stick."

"She can't afford the airfare," he argued. When she laughed, he shrugged lightly, standing once more. "I'll send her back to the Lodge and she'll forgive me."

Chloe snorted, hugging the soft white fabric of his coat around her. She buried her nose into the shoulder and inhaled the warm scent of his cologne. Goosebumps fanned across her body and a flood of comfort rushed through her. There was something about Oliver that could put to rest the worst of worries.

A few feet away, he lifted his bow back into his arms and continued trying to adjust it. "So we're agreed on the matter of Wagner…? Even if his Intel is good?"

She set her chin stubbornly. "Our team only… and whether he helped us out or not, he's just not trustworthy…"

He smirked, drew the string tight on his bow and waited.

Just then, the door to the balcony opened and Wagner appeared.

Oliver planted an arrow just inches away from his head, stiffly stuck in the brick wall next to him.

Giving a visible shudder, Wagner glanced at the green arrow and then back at Oliver.

"Thought we made ourselves clear…" Oliver said coolly, his eyes set once more on the alignments of his bow. "You were only to use violence if you were in danger."

Wagner swallowed tightly, looking from him to Chloe. "Mr. Queen… I told you. Block went rogue… I tried to stop him but he would've killed me too."

"Well we couldn't have that now, could we?" He blinked, flashing his brows up. "I guess I'm just going to have to start being more careful as to who I trust. Speaking of which, how is my old buddy Lex doing? Seeing as how you left him to die in a burning cage and all…" He shrugged.

Wagner licked his lips, darting a glance at Chloe who merely cocked a brow in reply. "What ever powers he had are clearly gone."

Oliver nodded.

"I was telling Miss. Sullivan though, sir…"

Oliver glanced at him.

"There was someone else in the warehouse… Someone who seems to have  _other_ abilities."

He blinked, turning his gaze once more to Chloe and in their  _spoken-without-words_ way they took a moment to be absolutely sure before finally nodding to each other.

"Thank you for your services, Mr. Wagner… Your pay is on the desk… We won't be needing you anymore," Oliver dismissed.

Though he looked as if he wanted argue, Wagner simply nodded before he turned around and left them to their business.

As the door clanged shut behind him, Oliver turned back to her. "Now what?"

"I'll have Victor take a look, keep Bart's eyes on the lookout." She shrugged before saying seriously, "Whoever he is, we'll find him… And hope he's nothing like Lex."

He frowned thoughtfully but nodded agreeably. And with a grin, he eventually asked, "So…? Where are we off to now, Sunshine?"

She grinned. "How about… Borneo?"

He smirked, raised his bow, and released an arrow out into the night sky before holding a hand out for her to take and walking back inside. The jet would be fueled and ready in less than an hour.

Behind them, in the distance, a green arrow pierced the spinning golden globe above the Daily Planet, smack dab in the center of the island Borneo.


	26. XXV. Of Benefit Dates and Twenty Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler(s): 6x03 - Wither

 

 **XXV.** _Of Benefit Dates and Twenty Questions_

Oliver received his two-part invitation on a busy Tuesday morning.

 **Dark Thursday** **Benefit**

Lex Luthor  
Cordially Invites You  
to a Costume Ball  
Benefiting the Victims  
of Dark Thursday

**10.11.06**   
**8pm**

Luthor Mansion  
100 Sayour Road  
Smallville, KA

There was a moment where he briefly considered balling it up and tossing it away. If Lex was holding the benefit it was only to soothe his own conscious; if he even had one left. But as he thought through the option, it held a certain appeal. Arriving at a rival's home and charity benefit, taking some of the interest off of him, getting a better view at just who he was now could come in handy. While he and Chloe had the others looking into Lex, they hadn't come up with anything damaging enough to make much of a headline. They knew something had happened, had _changed_ in him, that day, but they still couldn't figure out _what_.

Reaching for the phone on his desk, Oliver dialed without looking, the number so familiar now that his fingers typed it out on instinct alone. It was three rings before she picked up.

"Overworked, underpaid and notoriously busy; what can I do for you?" she answered.

He grinned the moment her voice hit his ears. "Good morning to you too," he returned.

She laughed lightly. "Why am I not surprised?" she sighed. "Ollie… I've _just_ gotten to work. Unlike you, I haven't been at it for two hours already. Time difference and all. I've barely sat down and am currently bogged with all kinds of tips…" She paused, let out a long breath, and asked, "How's Metropolis?"

"Incredibly lonely."

"Hah. It's busy and you've probably barely had any time to sit down…"

True this was the first time the phone wasn't ringing off the hook or his assistant wasn't reminding him of some other engagement he had. But… "Doesn't mean I don't miss you and your endless wit."

"I'm afraid it'll have to end earlier than usual… If I don't get an article to Jim today, he's going to put my head on a pike and wave it in front of interns as a lesson to be learned."

He shook his head. "You're his favorite."

"Sure, and next you'll say my head would make a pike look _good_."

He grinned. "Those telepathy skills of yours are only getting better."

She chuckled. "So what's up? I know you didn't just call to hear my voice."

He leaned back in his chair. "I've got massive phone bills that would say different, _buuut…_ Guess who was invited to a Luthor Special?"

She went quiet. "A personal invite or a send-to-everybody-who'd-make-a-headline invite?"

He half-smirked. "Headline. But still… Invited right into the devil's own home… that's a great position to be in while investigating him."

"Right…" He could practically _hear_ her chewing away at her lip in thought. "But I imagine since he'll have as many guests, you included, he'll put anything important under high security."

"True… but I hear Green Arrow is adept at getting through all kinds of security. Low, high, middle…" he boasted lightly.

"You're playing with fire, Ollie… Mm, not that I'm complaining exactly. Although it does suck that I'm over here in Star City while you're going to some ball."

" _Costume_ ball," he added.

"Oooh," she laughed. "Should I send over the tights?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm having that argument with you in spirit," he told her. "All the same, I packed a spare this time around."

"Really…? _Why?_ "

"In case I got homesick…?" he said hopefully.

" _Or…?_ "

He exhaled lowly. "Or because I think Green Arrow could do a little good here too…"

She sighed. "Ollie… Not that I disagree but the whole point of having AC don the green was so that others didn't make any connections between you and Arrow."

"I know…" He frowned. "But with all the time I'm spending in Metropolis lately, AC might as well take up the mantle permanently. I'll have the seamstress add some green fins and he's Aqua-Arrow."

She snorted. "Melodramatic much?"

"I could be worse…" His brows rose for emphasis. "It's only been a few days without your influence, I could lose all of my charm and become a reclusive, whiny billionaire… Then how would you feel?"

"Not at all to blame," she replied cheerily. "So I'm guessing you've already RSVP'd for Lex's ball?"

He smiled. "Yes, and it's for two… The jet is fueled, be ready."

She snorted. "Yeah, _no_. This is one adventure I can't join you on."

Oliver sighed, long and loud. "Chloe…"

"No amount of whining is going to change my mind," she laughed. "Oliver, I support you in this headhunt for Lex, but I've gotta get some work done here. With all of these visits to Metropolis you have planned for me, I have to have something to show Jim or he'll stop _paying_ me." Before he could interrupt, she added, "And don't say you'll make up for any hours I don't get out of the Gazette or you'll be playing bachelor all by your lonesome for the next _month_."

He rolled his eyes. Her desire for him to never finance anything related to her was an old argument, but one he was both proud of her for making and tired of having to fight. It was his fault she spent so much time away from her job and Star City, so why couldn't he make up for any lost checks in between? She was an independent person, however, and given the women he'd known before her he couldn't say he didn't like that. She wasn't so easily drawn in by the dollar signs; in fact, she hardly seemed to notice they were there.

"Fine, I won't say it… but I was _thinking_ it and you know I was so that's enough."

She laughed under her breath. "So which blonde-bombshell are you going to let grace your arm for this Luthor event?"

"The only blonde bombshell _worthy_ is denying my company… so I'll just have to settle for someone similar, if not as mutually awesome."

Catching on, she snickered. "It'll be interesting to see how that plays out."

"I imagine by the end of the night my ears will still be ringing."

"She _does_ love to talk…" she mused. "Well, have fun!"

"You're sure you won't change your mind?" he wondered rather hopefully.

"Mmm… no. With the pile of work I've got in front of me, it'll only multiply in my absence and I'm already overloaded…" Gently, she added, "Just a few more days and we'll see if Metropolis has any salvageable coffee shops, all right?"

He grinned slowly. "I'm holding you to that."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

They hung up and Oliver leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. After a few minutes, he finally reached over and buzzed his assistant. "Sara… How do you feel about costume shopping?"

* * *

It was early Wednesday morning when Lois barged into Queen Towers, just a couple steps ahead of Oliver's receptionist, jaw set and arms swinging as she readied herself to verbally tear her cousin's best friend into pieces.

"Miss, you can't go in there." Hurrying ahead, Sara called out in warning and apology, "I'm sorry, Mr. Queen. She didn't give me her name, I-I don't even know if she has an appointment!"

"And I told _you_ I don't _need_ an appointment! I'm Chloe Sullivan's _cousin_ and a friend—" Lois cocked her head. " _Ish_ , to Oliver!"

Oliver, posed in a headstand on his yoga mat spread atop the platform near the clockface of his tower, grinned lightly at the two women. "It's okay. She's practically family." Grunting, he returned to standing properly and waved Sara away.

For a moment, Lois could only gawk at the perfectly sculpted and attractively shiny expanse of tanned skin exposed. Blinking quickly, she found her senses and her snark. "Okay, I guess I really underestimated the powers of yoga… I can see now why Chloe puts up with you."

Hands low on his hips, Oliver laughed briefly. "Mutual benefit; we usually do yoga together. Which is why…" He turned slightly and waved toward the computer, where Chloe folded down from her forearm stand to take a seat on her mat. "Say hi to Chloe, Lois."

Lois stared baffled at the computer. "Unbelievable… You guys Skype _yoga?_ Seriously, did the clueless bus hit both of you in one trip?"

Amused, Oliver simply smiled while Chloe rolled her eyes at the screen.

Grabbing up a towel, he walked down from the platform, wiping himself down as he went before he took a seat at the desk and leaned back in his leather chair, kicking his feet up. "I'm guessing you got my invite?"

Rolling her eyes, Lois followed after him, looking irritated. "Yes, which is why I'm standing here with a very long and thought out speech about why you shouldn't be hitting on me… but since Chloe can see and hear me and you're obviously busy with all your…" She waved at him, " _bendy stuff_ , I'm thinking I should've waited until you were dressed, had your morning OJ and she was on her way to work, well out of earshot…"

He cocked a brow up at her. "Yeah, that's… _nice_. Unnecessary, since I wasn't hitting on you… _at all_ , but…." He shrugged. "Look, if you're not used to these things, I've got a stylist on call… Or if you're more comfortable, give me the name of your favorite hair salon and I'll pay for whatever beauty regiments you want." He smirked. "I'd give you my credit card but that has _mistake_ written all over it."

Lois, her brow furrowed, scoffed at him. "Bet you'd give _Chloe_ your credit card."

Oliver half-smiled. "She has a spare. And she's proven she's good with it."

Chloe's voice came through the computer speakers earnestly, "Unless there's a coffee shortage, then you're on your way to broke."

Oliver pointed to the screen agreeably.

Lois rolled her eyes. "So wait," She turned to the camera, bending to get herself in the picture and see her cousin properly. "You're _okay_ with my being Oliver's date?" She looked between them skeptically. "Am I the _only_ one who thinks this is _completely_ backwards?"

He frowned. "Right, when we say _date_ I was kind of hoping you knew that had no actual romantic connotations…" He waved his hands apologetically. "Not that you're not…" He motioned at her awkwardly. "But we're not really…" Sighing, he scratched at his temple. "Y'know?"

She blinked. "Because you were _so_ clear."

Chloe laughed. "She knows what you mean."

"Great." He tied his towel behind his neck and wrapped his hands around either end. "So you'll be ready to go?" He turned his eyes up thoughtfully. "I've already got my Robin Hood outfit, so you wanna be my Maid Marian, or…?" He shook his head wonderingly.

Lois glanced at the computer screen. "Yeah, pretty sure the spot's already filled." With a cluck of her tongue, she wondered, "Do we _have_ to wear _matching_ costumes?"

"Hey," he laughed, "if you wanna dress up as a Planter's Peanut, be my guest."

Chloe's laugh filtered out to them.

Frowning, Lois looked between them. "Inside joke I'm not aware of?"

"He's allergic," her cousin explained, waving it away.

She rolled her eyes. "You really think you should be taking potshots at your date?"

He grinned. "So that's a yes?"

She sighed. "What are you even _doing_ here? And _without_ Chloe!"

He shrugged. "I came out to set up some financial support for Senator Kent and Chloe _abandoned_ me—"

Her scoff interrupted him. "I have _work_ to do. Work that has consistently been ignored to go globetrotting with a certain best friend…" She rolled her eyes. "So I can't be there. I'm coming out in a few days though and we'll make up for lost time."

Lois snorted, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. "Lost time? You guys are together 24/7, if anybody deserves some Chloe face-time it's _me!"_

She smiled indulgently. "I'll be equally shared."

Oliver scoffed, quirking his brows. "Yeah, we'll see…"

Lois glared at him. "What happened to being nice so you aren't forced to go stag?"

Pursing his lips, he told her, "Y'know, _really_ , I'm doing _you_ a favor?"

Her eyes narrowed with skepticism and curiosity. "How so?"

He smirked. "You get a bird's eye view of the ball and you get to grill Lex Luthor, Senator Kent and anybody else you can get your typo-ready fingers on. How is that not a headline waiting to happen?"

Standing back, she considered his offer. "All right, so I'm in… But there'll be no matching costume."

"Yeah… that could be a problem..." he drawled, half-frowning.

She stared at him suspiciously. "Why…?"

He pointed a thumb back at a blue box with a white bow. "It's your size and everything."

Shoulders slumped, she sighed heavily. "You're lucky I _really_ want this article."

He smirked.

* * *

Oliver sat in front of his computer, his green mask waiting atop the desk near the jar of green make up he was going to smear around his eyes to darken the skin. "I can see the headline now… _Drag Queen: A Billionaire's Struggle_ ," he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Chloe snorted, the sound registering through the speakers. "You've got great legs for a dress… We'll need to stuff your bra though, 'cause you're sorely flat in that area."

He pursed his lips and glanced down at himself. "I've seen flatter."

She cocked a brow. "I'm not sure that's a compliment to you."

He grinned. "So I've got nice legs?"

She shook her head at him, redirecting the conversation, "You really think going as Robin Hood won't draw any attention?"

"Green Arrow hasn't so much as zip-lined past Metropolis; they won't think anything of it," he assured, smearing some of the green goop on his fingers and playing with the texture beneath his thumb.

"And when he does…?" She lifted her brows worriedly. "The best approach to this is to avoid _any_ connections…"

He half-smiled. "It's too late now, Sunshine. Maybe if you were around when I was costume shopping with Sara, but since you _ditched_ me in favor of work…" He scoffed, lifting his hands to his face and smearing the make-up hesitantly beneath his eyes.

"Careful not to get any _in_ your eyes…" she warned. "Smooth it out a bit near your nose…" As he listened to her direction, she nodded. "All right, Lady Queen, now close your eye and do the lid." She giggled softly. "Not so thick."

He sighed. "This would be a lot easier if you weren't three hours away."

She half-smiled. "If you're going to be a drag queen, you'll have to learn to do this on your own."

He cracked a grin. And with one eye done, he blinked a few times to try and get used to the sensation. "How's it look?"

"Let's do the other before I comment…" She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Is there a _camera_ anywhere?"

He snorted. "No."

"So is tonight strictly for appearance sake or are you going to try and get a better look at whatever Lex might've left laying around."

He shrugged, dipping his fingers back in the paste and reaching for his opposite eye. "I'll wait 'til I get there, see how security looks."

She smirked. "What happened to Green Arrow having a good grasp on every level of security?"

He smiled. "With a reporter on my arm, I'll have to be a little more careful… Last thing I need is your cousin asking me why I'm gallivanting around in rooms I shouldn't be."

"You could always try and charm her off your scent," she said, wryly.

"One of _few_ women I know who can't be charmed by me, she's still pretty sure I'll end up with you in the end." Smoothing the makeup out along his upper eyelid, he stared at the screen. "So?"

"So what?" She laughed slightly, a choked sound escaping her. "Me and you?"

His brows furrowed. "I meant the makeup, but if you wanna tread _that_ path…"

"No, no, no," she said rather hurriedly. "The makeup's fine. Put the mask on and lemme see the finished affect."

After wiping his hands off, he grabbed up the green fabric, wrapped it around his eyes and tied it behind his head. Readjusting it until it fit just right, he nodded toward the camera. "Well? Am I everything you imagined?"

She stared a second. "And more…" Her smiled softened. "Try not to break any hearts out there, Big Green."

He winked. "Best behavior."

She chuckled lightly and glanced at the time. "Kay, you've gotta go pick up my darling cousin and I have work to do…" She grinned. "Have _fun!_ "

"Without you it's nearly impossible… but I'll try." Standing from his seat, he reached for the computer mouse and after dramatically blowing her a kiss, he closed their skype window. Grabbing up his bow as he went, he walked toward the elevator, feeling the smile he usually wore in her presence fading slightly. He'd gotten so used to Chloe being a part of things it still felt weird when she wasn't right there next to him. Pushing the button for the garage, he leaned back in the steel elevator and waited for it to lower. He hoped tonight wasn't a complete bust.

* * *

Oliver met Lois behind her apartment building. After calling her cell to let her know he was waiting, he climbed out and stood leaning back against his yellow sports car.

She walked out the door in her beautiful blue Maid Marian dress, spotted him, and with all the candor she was known for greeted him with a snarky, "Nice car… Making up for something?"

He grinned in good humor. "You'll never know, will you?"

Smiling brightly, she shrugged. "One of these days I'm sure girl talk will wander into this area and Chloe won't be able to help herself, so…" She lifted a shoulder. "I may just."

He chuckled, shaking his head. Circling the car, he held the door open for her. "It boggles me just how long you've kept this crusade up, Lois… I figured you'd get your jabs in, you'd lay a little suggestion out there and let your seeds grow, but you just don't give up."

Lifting her dress so it wouldn't drag, she smugly climbed into the car and waited for him to close her door and circle the car to take his seat before replying. "There's proving a point and there's convincing you there's something _after_ that point."

He cocked a brow as he turned the ignition. "Okay…?"

"If I prove my point, you guys accept that hey, you have something between you—" She circled her finger in the air. "Whoop-de-doo, you move on and pretend your friendship is just where it needs to end. _But…_ If I can convince you that putting one aspect of you guys on the line for something so much more is _worth_ it…" She grinned, nodding, " _Then_ my work is done."

"Uh-huh…" His eyes narrowed. "And you're so sure you're right?"

"Buddy, I know my cousin, I know men, and I know relationships." She turned in her seat to face him. "And over the years, _yeah_ , I think I've got a pretty good grasp on _you_."

He lifted a brow. "I'll agree there."

"Right, and the way you _look_ at her… The way you _take care_ of her…" She stared at him searchingly. "You can't tell me that's all out of friendship. You can't _really_ believe that whatever love you have for her is _only_ friendly."

He glanced at her and then back out at the road, his face unreadable. "Tonight's going to be filled with this, isn't it?"

She smirked. "You opened Pandora's Box, Jolly Green Giant."

He laughed under his breath and shook his head. He couldn't argue there.

* * *

As they walked into the Luthor Ballroom, the All-American Rejects, the band playing the event, were mid-song.

 _When darkness turns to light_  
_It ends tonight,_  
_It ends tonight..._  
_Just a little insight won't make this right_  
_It's too late to fight_  
_It ends tonight,_  
_It ends tonight..._

Walking through the room, they smiled at various people, some wearing masks and some without, many wearing glittery makeup and playing up their character. Oliver could make out half of Metropolis' socialites and cared little to talk with most of them. Lois was searching for familiar faces to grill, but instead settled on him. "So," she said brightly. "You ready for Twenty Questions or did you want to get your buzz on first?"

He laughed, considering the champagne tray that passed him by. "Only twenty?"

She shrugged before telling him, "Didn't want to scare you away early."

He half-smiled, amused. "Trust me, at this point I'm in it for the long haul."

"You never know, if you and Chloe ever have a falling out…" She sucked air in between her teeth. "All ties are cut."

Not even slightly worried, he came to a stop, turning toward her and leaning into his longbow. Staring her square in the eye, he told her in a clear, firm voice, "There's no falling out in the near or far future, Lois."

She cocked a brow. "You sound pretty sure of yourself for a guy wearing tights."

He grinned. "Any reason I shouldn't be?"

"Well, I wasn't going to give it to you, especially with the regular flood of praise to that already bloated ego but…" She shrugged, looking him up and down playfully. "You're totally pulling it off."

Lex's voice interrupted their good mood then, saying, "You should see him in a tutu."

Oliver felt his body tense, his spine stiffening as he turned to face him. Lex was wearing red and gold body armor, no doubt dressed as Alexander the Great. Rather than argue the title, although the quip was there at the end of his tongue, Oliver stared hard at him, the corners of his mouth curved in a smirk. "Lex Luthor..." He hardly glanced at the beautiful woman at his side; the same featured in many gossip magazines and cited as the new _Lex Girl_. "With a girl that he doesn't have to inflate."

Lex laughed shortly, hugging her close to his side. "Lana Lang, Oliver Queen." He nodded between them. "We went to, uh, _boarding school_ together."

"Talked to any of the old gang lately?" he asked, all the while knowing the answer.

Lex stared at him a long moment, his face clear of emotion. He glanced at Lana and then back at Oliver before saying shortly, "Enjoy the party," and walking between he and Lois, drawing Lana along with him.

Oliver stared after him, muttering, "I always do."

"That how you greet every host?" Lois wondered, peering at him curiously before glancing back after Lex.

"No…" His jaw tightened. "Just him."

"You should maybe try and work on that friendly demeanor…" she suggested. "It's not quite up to code."

He snorted. "Unlike most people here, I _know_ Lex and I have for a long time… Just because he threw this charity doesn't make him man of the year." He shook his head. "He's got a lot to make up for and there's no number of charitable acts big enough that he could clean up his soul." He pursed his lips darkly.

In the back of his mind, a voice wondered if perhaps he was talking just a little about himself. While Lex's own deeds were of the tweaking-genetic-makeup variety and his had more to do with wasting away his life, Oliver couldn't help but think that sometimes even he wasn't as good as he could be and there wasn't anything he could do to scrub it off his person. Even the press painted him that way, forever citing the _Old Oliver Ways_ , before Chloe and her supposed fix job on him. As far as the world was concerned Oliver was once a playboy who did little to be better and the only person that made him worth looking at now was Chloe. If he did anything good it was because she'd reformed him somehow. She would argue vehemently against that point, reminding him that after his little island of terror, he came back wanting to change for himself and his parents. She just happened to step into his life at the right time, when he was ready to make a connection with someone and let himself be less of what the headlines labeled him as and more of who he really was. That didn't erase the mistakes he'd made, however.

Lois' voice cut through is train of thought. "Can I _quote_ you on that?" Lois joked.

He glanced at her briefly, allowing a short smile. She was fun and smart and beautiful. Maybe once upon a time he might've thought the two of them could've worked out in some capacity. But with the way they met and the versions of each other they knew, nothing romantic could ever come of it. And if were being honest, regardless of how attractive Lois was, he tended to see her as family rather than a feisty, single woman he could have a good time with. Funny how things turned out.

"You wanna call Chloe to bring your mood back up or you think you can feign nice for a little while longer?" she wondered, though she stared at him if she was more concerned then she was showing. She didn't know his history with Lex and no doubt the look on his face wasn't hiding any disgust he felt for the waste of human skin he thought Luthor was.

"I'm sorry," he replied, sighing. "I guess I'm falling short in the date department."

She shrugged. "Hey, as long as you get me a story, we're good…" Her eyes narrowed, scanning the room. "Speaking of…" She pointed excitedly. "There's Senator Kent." She bounced on her tip-toes. "You promised me some hobnobbing for my paper, Queen, and it's time to deliver!" Waving her hand excitedly, she called out, "Senator Kent!" before she tucked her hands behind her demurely and tried to look like she wasn't the loudmouth who forgot her manners.

He cocked a brow at her. "You know she's not going to mistake _my_ voice for a woman's _high-pitched_ yell for attention, right?"

Lois glared.

Martha Kent didn't let it scare her off, instead walking over to meet them. She smiled up at Oliver, holding out a hand for him. "Mr. Queen, it's nice to finally meet you." She turned, spotting Lois, and smiled politely but her confusion was rapidly evident.

Amused, Oliver smiled. "Expecting someone else? Maybe blonder."

With a telling flush, Martha smiled apologetically. "Sorry… I shouldn't take gossip for fact but I'd heard you were close with Chloe Sullivan… Pulitzer prize winning reporter, that's admirable."

He grinned proudly. " _She's_ admirable." He nodded. "Unfortunately she's in Star City tonight, working tirelessly to prove to _herself_ she's worthy of the accolade."

Martha looked surprised. "Having read her piece, I'd say she's the only one who thinks she still has to prove _anything_."

"You'd be right…" he agreed. "In fact, she's been telling me about your policy points, she's one of many reasons I thought everyone could benefit if I put my support in toward your senate position." Earnestly, he told her, "We should get together and talk about how I can help you."

Nodding, she smiled warmly. "I'm looking forward to that. Thank you."

"In the meantime, if you wouldn't mind giving another up and coming reporter a moment of your time…" He motioned to Lois. "This is Chloe's cousin and she's very excited to meet you."

Lois waved. "Hi."

"Sure, I have a moment…" She smiled at Oliver in goodbye and then motioned for Lois to follow her. "Ask away."

Lois hurried to step up to her side, passing one last grateful glance at Oliver before she went.

Watching her go, he shook his head, smiling to himself, and took out his phone from his pocket, hitting one on his cell before he lifted it to his ear.

Chloe picked up after a few rings, sighing straight into the receiver as if she'd expected him all along. "I feel like I haven't slept in _days…"_

He frowned. "Pretty sure sleeping is mandatory, Professor."

She laughed quietly. "My eyes have been glued to a computer screen since you left. I've become one with the machine, Oliver… You may have to forcibly separate us when this is over."

He snorted. "I'd tell you to leave it at home when you come into town, but you'll only go through withdrawal the whole time."

She sighed agreeably. "Okay, my first night there, no screens whatsoever. We'll put movie night off 'til Saturday. Some target practice and dinner and then I think I'll slip into a small coma and we'll get back on track when I'm more refreshed."

He half-smiled, walking through the crowd as he talked, nodding to anybody who glanced at him and moving on before they could start a conversation. "How long do you plan on staying here with me?"

"Well…" she sighed, and he heard the creak of her chair as she sat back. "I may have made a deal with Jim that Danny handle more local news while I work on the global stuff… Which means I can write it from just about anywhere and not have my eyes front and center on the goings-on of Star City…"

"Handy," he replied, mouth curving appreciatively. "So I can whisk you away around the country and not have to worry about getting you back for Monday's grind?"

"Exactly… I figure it helps out a lot more with traveling and our extra-curricular night activities, but I also like the benefits I get out of it… I'll still have my desk here and all of my writing is strictly for the Gazette, but… I can do it from anywhere and I get top choice for whatever topic I want."

"You deserve it… You've worked your butt off, it's only fair."

He could hear her smile resonating through the phone.

"And I did it all without ever having to bend to the gossip mill…" She laughed lightly. "No offence, but I'm really glad my investigative skills weren't tuned only to news about Star City's favorite bachelor."

He grinned. "You were always meant for better things."

"Which is just what we'll be doing as soon as I clear up this stack of articles I've got in front of me…" she promised.

His brow arched. "Have you made a dent?"

"A very tiny one…" she sighed mournfully.

He chuckled under his breath. "You know, I don't think the team would mind if you asked them for help… I'm not sure what their writing skills are like but they could at least help you go through the information you've got and separate the good from the bad."

"Hah! If I bring Bart in here, all he'll do is complain about having _homework_ … I'll be playing teacher between him and AC and Victor will only encourage them. He enjoys their bickering like it's his own personal _sitcom_."

Imagining the chaos, Oliver couldn't help but laugh deeply. He could see Bart super-speeding all over the place, kicking up papers from the wind that would result in his running, Chloe and Victor would have palpitations, AC would start an argument… All right, not the best idea he'd ever had. But amusing nonetheless.

"You sure you don't want me to give them a call?" he teased.

"I will _change_ the access code, Oliver Queen!" she told him warningly.

He chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Hey," Lois' voice interrupted, peering at him curiously. Back from her interview, apparently having all she need, and seeing his amusement and the phone in his hand, her eyes narrowed. "Is that Chloe?" she demanded.

Knowing she would want the phone for herself and would no doubt hog Chloe the rest of the night, Oliver shook his head. "No…" he said carefully.

Unconvinced, she cocked a brow. "Then who is it?"

"Someone trying to save me money on car insurance," he replied, trying not to smile. Chloe laughed thickly in his ear.

Lois snorted. "That's the _best_ you can do?"

He feigned disappointment. "Hey, have a little respect. They're just doing their job."

"Oliver…" She rolled her eyes. "Gimme the phone." She held out her hand expectantly.

"No," he scoffed. "Get your own telemarketer."

"Ollie! Just…" She blew out an irritated sigh. "Give. Me. The phone…" When he continued to keep it close to his ear, she glared. "She's _my_ cousin!"

"I can see this is going to be a mature argument," Chloe teased.

When she advanced, Oliver backed up, saying into the phone quickly, "Chloe, I gotta go, your cousin's lost her mind." He snapped the phone closed and stared smugly at the scowling woman in front of him, who lost a few serious points since she was dressed up as Maid Marian and not in her usual garb.

Looking smug all of a sudden, Lois reached for his phone once more. "I'll just call her back on your dime!"

"She's working," he argued. "I shouldn't have bothered her."

Unconvinced, Lois reached past him, letting out a grunt of frustration as she tried to reach the phone he held high above his head. "God, what is she _feeding_ you that you're this _tall?_ "

Maneuvering out of her reach, he held a hand out to keep her back. "Back off or the phone's going somewhere you won't try searching."

She snorted. "You think I won't go fishing in those green tights?"

His eyes narrowed. "You really think you will?"

They stared off for a long moment, stubbornly unwilling to look away or give in.

Finally, Oliver offered with a frown, "Truce?"

Hands on her hips, Lois bargained, "If I don't get to talk to her, you're playing Twenty Questions and there's no passes!"

With a sigh, he licked his lips, saying, "Fine, Lois… You've officially broken down my defenses… _Ask_." He waved a hand for her to continue.

"All right…" She stepped up toward him, crossing her arms over her chest and stared at him as if she were conducting an interrogation and would be able to see whether he was lying or not. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked.

"Really?" He half-smiled. "That's what you wanna start with?"

"Just answer the question," she huffed.

"Fine. _No_ , I don't have a girlfriend."

She stared at him searchingly. "So you're not dating anyone?"

He shook his head. "Not currently."

"Currently, right…" she scoffed under her breath. "So when would you say was the last time you _had_ a girlfriend?"

"I don't… It's been… _awhile_."

"Okay, then since you've gone on a date, even if it didn't work out?"

Sighing, he tipped his head and thought it through. "I'm not… sure. I guess it's been…" He frowned. "A year?"

"And since there's been a spark with anybody?"

"A spark…" He was trying not to frown at her expression; like she was reeling him into her trap and he couldn't see it coming. His mind was counting through the women he'd met, recently and further back. He was trying to put a face to the woman who'd last made his chest tighten a little or his mouth smile uncontrollably. And when he finally found her, a muscle in his jaw ticked. "A few years, I guess…" he said, watching the cogs work away in Lois' brain.

"Like around the time you met Chloe?" she asked, smugness showing through.

"Yes, okay…" He half-rolled his eyes. "So there was a spark. She was…" He couldn't help a smile. "Different. She…" He shook his head, remembering the first night they met at the benefit that seemed so long ago. "She wasn't like anybody I'd ever met before."

Lois grinned widely. "So when you first met her, you weren't thinking _friendship?_ "

"Lois…" his voice took on a warning tone. "When we first met, any preconceptions I had about women went out the window. My definition of friendship changed completely," he hedged. "Why do I feel like this is going to be in the next issue of _Seventeen_ magazine?"

She waved his worry off. "But when you first met, when you first _saw_ her…" she needled, "What'd you think? What'd you want to _do?_ "

Little alarms were going off in his head, his heart beating a little harder as he warred with his own conscious about whether to dig deeper into his own feelings and let himself honestly answer the questions she was asking. The night he'd met Chloe had changed his life, that wasn't new information. She'd become the most important person to him and it hadn't changed since. Yes, when he'd first set eyes on her his feelings weren't of the platonic variety. He was a different man then; a woman _never_ evoked thoughts of friendship. But things had evolved differently when they got to know each other and at the time, what they both really needed wasn't a one night stand or relationship. They needed a confidante, someone to trust and rely on, somebody they could invest themselves in without risking their hearts. But… Taking a deep breath, Oliver finally admitted, "I thought she was beautiful… She stood out…" He smiled slightly. "Of every woman in the room, she was the only one I couldn't take my eyes off of."

"And when you talked to her, what then?" Lois pushed.

"I was…" He sighed. "I don't even know. I was just caught up in her. In her wit and her humor."

"You felt something…" She peered at him as if she was seeing something he wasn't; something that never reflected back in the mirror. "Something you never have before… A whole new level."

He stared at her, saying seriously, "I found the only real person in a room full of fakes… and she wasn't afraid of being that."

Lois took a step toward him. "In _that_ moment, before you guys bared all over coffee, before you exchanged BFF bracelets and all that jazz… Where did you think you two could go? What did you think, or _hope_ , she'd mean to you?"

He'd spotted her across the room. In a blue-green gown that somehow hugged her curves and seemed to whisper around her attractively, she scanned the room, rather bored with what she was seeing. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves that brushed pale, bare shoulders. Her eyes cut through anybody who got too close, anybody who looked her over or grinned in her direction. She was cut off from the rest and she didn't look like she wanted to play nice. In fact, he would've bet money that she'd have left the dress at home and relaxed in a pair of jeans if she could have.

While every other woman was trying desperately to get his attention, she was avoiding it, and maybe that was what first had him looking. He always had enjoyed a challenge. But then her eyes met his, briefly, just a tiny slip of a moment before it was gone and she was back to ignoring him. And he saw it; sadness, loneliness, pride that she never let it take her down. A kindred spirit. He became protective of a stranger in a room full of people who wouldn't spare her a glance if they found out her paycheck. She didn't have money written anywhere on her; she didn't even _stand_ like a socialite would.

When he crossed to her, he told himself it was because she looked familiar; maybe because the lost, lonely person in her eyes was the same one that stared back at him each morning, or maybe it was because in some far-away recess he knew her from when she was just a twelve year old kid and her dad took on a job at Queen Industries. Either way, he crossed that room ready to do whatever it might take to get her to look at him, to see him, and maybe she, unlike everyone else, would see Ollie, for the first time in his life. Not the money or the suit or the smirk. And maybe, even for just tonight, she would mean more to him and he to her than anybody ever had before. Maybe, hopefully, she could mean…

"Everything…" he said aloud. He glanced at Lois and half-smiled. "And I was right. Just not in the way you think."

She rolled her eyes, sighing quick and irritably. "No, Oliver, not in the way you'll _let_ yourself think. Admit it!" She jabbed a finger at his chest. "If not to me, _at least_ to yourself…" Her eyes bore into him, stark and honest and trying so desperately to make him believe her. "You _love_ her."

"I know that," he assured. " _She_ knows that."

She sighed, her eyes rolling. "No. Not like family, not like a friend…" She looked ready to shake him and he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd reached out, gripped his arms and did just that. Instead, she asked, "Who do you call after a long day? Who do you look forward to seeing when life slows down? Who do you want your date to be, every time? Who—Who knows you better than _anyone_ else? Who do _you_ know better than anybody ever _could?_ Ask yourself!" She threw her hands up. "The answer is always the same!"

Losing patience with her and the questions he avoided for a reason, he frowned. "You're asking a lot from someone you're not even sure is right, or even _good enough_ for her…" He stared at her searchingly. "I'm good at friendship, Lois. My track record with relationships, though…?" He shook his head. "Not something you'd boast about." When her chin stiffened with resolve, he shook his head. "There was a spark, I'll admit it… Before a word came out of her mouth, I saw something in her I only ever saw in _me_ … But I'd never risk losing her in _any_ capacity, not for any reason…" Crossing his arms across his chest, he told her firmly, "You've got one question left and then we get something to eat and enjoy the rest of the night."

"All right…" She stared at him, hard. "Last one and then you can point me toward the pigs-in-a-blanket…" She tipped her chin, her brown eyes beating into him. "Years from now, you're ready to settle down… In fact, you're standing at the end of the aisle, you've got Armani on head to toe, there's flowers and music and a holy guy ready to call you man and wife..." She paused, letting it all sink in, letting it play out in his head. "Is Chloe watching, front row and center… or is she walking the aisle in white?"

His mouth went dry, his throat hollow. Silence permeated between them, disrupted only by the outside noise of fellow costume ball goers, likely having a much less intense conversation.

She smiled up at him knowingly, as if his answer was written on his face. "You don't have to answer that one… But you should definitely think about it." Her brows raised tellingly before she walked away.

Troubled, Oliver's eyes trailed after her.

He wasn't sure he liked what his answer would've been.

* * *

A couple hours later, as the night came to an end, Oliver pulled up behind Lois' apartment building and hopped out to open her car door for her. Being Lois, she pushed it open before he could reach it, climbed out and met him, looking smug. "Put away the chivalry, Tights. I can open my own doors."

Rolling his eyes, he tucked his arms behind his back and shrugged. "If you're sure."

She snorted. "Oddly enough, I've gotten through life just fine without a guy to open my doors or help with my coat." She circled the car but didn't go straight for the door like he expected. Instead, she looked uncomfortable, gnawing at her lip like she had something to say. Finally, she asked aloud, "You still mad at me for all the questions earlier?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Should I be?"

She pursed her lips and stepped back to sit down atop the hood of the car. "I can be a little intense… and stubborn… and sometimes I pick at things until I get the answer I want."

He smiled, sitting down next to her. "You don't say…?"

She half-rolled her eyes. "Look, Oliver… I guess I don't always see the vulnerable guy behind the mask, but… Whatever fears you have about not stacking up or being enough for Chloe… They're unfounded."

He turned toward her, inhaling deeply before he let it out in a long sigh. "Lois, close as we've become over the years and much as we mutually love Chloe… There are a lot of things about you don't know."

"Things even Google wouldn't bring up?" she asked, half-smirking.

His smile slipped away. "My past with women is public knowledge… And I won't give you the two sides to every story line, because most of the time I was just an ass…" He frowned. "I wasn't looking for love, I was looking for somebody to drown some sorrow in and I didn't have a hard time finding anybody."

"You think that's going to scare her off?" She scoffed. "Oliver, we all have pasts, we've all got histories and done things we're not proud of." She nodded, her eyes wide with emphasis. "Even Chloe."

"I know…" he said, nodding. "And she knows every mistake I ever made… And maybe I'm not seeing myself clearly; maybe I'm my own worst-critic, which is pretty disturbing considering just how many critics I have, but…" He shook his head. "When I look at Chloe… I only ever want the best for her." He turned toward her, smiling despite the pain filtering in his voice. "And I'm not it."

She frowned, her brows falling heavy over her eyes.

"Well…" He climbed up from the car and turned back to her, holding a hand out to help her up off the hood, half-smiling when she took it despite her earlier protests. "Tonight wasn't a _complete_ bust, right? You got a one-on-one interview with Senator Kent, so I think I held up my end of the deal."

Lois clucked her tongue. "Yeah, well, I'd say you know how to show a girl a good time but I'm pretty sure you already know it."

He laughed lightly. "And with my already _bloated_ ego over the tights comment…"

She snorted. "You'll make a good cousin-in-law when you get around to it."

Shaking his head, he stuck his tongue into his cheek as he grinned. "You don't give up, do you?"

"All right… A test then…" Her eyes narrowed, looking around before settling on his bow sitting in the backseat of his car. Finding a can sitting on the garbage bin against the far brick wall, she pointed to it. "You hit the can with your arrow and I stop suggesting you and Chloe are perfect for each other."

He stared at her, his head cocked as he considered her proposal. "To _both_ of us?"

She pouted, knowing she would've kept up her needling at Chloe. But with his unrelenting expression, she finally sighed. "Yes, fine, no more perfect blonde baby jokes or bridal brochures, _none_ of it."

He eyed her skeptically and then turned toward the can. "You never bring it up again?"

She smirked. "Cross my heart."

He nodded. "I'm in. _But…_ Regardless of the outcome, we don't tell Chloe."

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "You wanna pinky swear?"

Grinning, he walked back to the car and grabbed up his bow and an arrow before walking back to meet her. "No… I'm ready."

Nodding, she put her hands on her hips and then looked from him to the can and smugly said, "All right… Show me whatcha got, Queen."

Oliver angled himself, lifting his bow up and staring at his target for a long second. He listened to the air around him, could hear the sharp, quick inhales and exhales of Lois nearby, and drew back on the taut string. The can was within sight, perfectly aligned with his arrow. All he would have to do was release and she'd never say another word about _Harry and Sally_ or encourage Chloe to take a good look at the guy standing next to her. She'd leave it alone, even when she was dying to make a point or find something more in something innocent. The matter would be at rest and there'd be nobody to needle away at Chloe or him or what they could be or mean to each other.

His lips drew tight, his brow furrowed, and angling the arrow up just a notch, he released.

It whistled through the air, cutting it quickly, before finally piercing the brick wall and coming to a shuddering standstill far from eye's sight. The can stood perfectly still, just below where the arrow had landed, completely intact.

Lois grinned, wide and smug. Reaching over, she clapped his shoulder. "Better luck next time, _Cousin_." Laughing under her breath, she turned and skipped off into her apartment building. She would never let him live it down, of course, and he was sure she'd be encouraging his match with Chloe just as soon as her cousin got into town.

Standing back, Oliver stared thoughtfully at the arrow a good thirty feet away. He didn't have to walk to it to know where it had landed; he had enough practice to know that it went where he wanted it to. With a shake of his head, he walked back to his car and climbed in, pulling out of the dark alley and away from the intrusive and thought provoking Lois Lane.

Left behind was the tab of the pop can he'd shot at, torn from its place and circling the shaft of his arrow, just like he'd meant for it to.

If he'd wanted to, he could've brought Lois over and pointed it out or he could've hit the can point blank and center and ended it all right then. But… Maybe, some part of him just wasn't ready for her to stop. For the questions and the suggestions and the hope to dwindle away entirely. And _maybe_ … She'd helped him see something he'd been avoiding all along.

Maybe.


	27. XXVI. Of Stolen Necklaces and Revealed Identities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler(s): 6x04 - Arrow

 

 **XXVI.** Of Stolen Necklaces and Revealed Identities

"All right, according to SafeTex and their not so secure database, Lionel has them hired for the event, with a special warning that the necklace he's lending Senator Kent is more than a little pricey…" She scoffed under her breath. "And given the picture's I've seen and the research I've done, it's more like _black-market_ pricey." Chloe leaned back in her chair and looked up to Oliver who was leaning over her shoulder.

"Last thing I want to do is give Senator Kent any bad coverage…" He frowned. "Then again, she doesn't have the best choice in allies, does she?"

"I think her platform is solid, though." She lifted a shoulder. "Regardless of whatever influence Lionel might be trying to encourage, I'm not seeing it in her history. She's clean-cut and for whatever reason he really seems to be supporting her… Maybe this leopard is trying to change his spots."

"He can paint himself all he wants, the spots are still there," Oliver murmured thoughtfully.

"Did you get your invite to the banquet?" she wondered, arching a brow.

"Came yesterday…" He smiled to himself. "I think Lionel wants to keep an eye on me."

"Two events in as many weeks, you're getting popular," she teased.

"With any lucky, I won't be spending it with a certain nosy cousin…" He half-rolled his eyes. "She's got a room full of politicians and she chooses to grill me… I gotta tell ya, I don't think her Pulitzer is soon in coming."

Chloe chuckled under her breath. "You didn't tell me how that went. When I asked Lois, she said she gave you time for an epiphany…" Her lips curled. "She's still trying her hand at matchmaking, I gather."

"Not sure she ever gave it up…" Sighing, he leaned back against the table behind him. "She was persistent…" He turned his eyes up in thought. "Not completely wrong, but too bullheaded to hear reason."

She snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

He returned his gaze to her. "So how about it, Sunshine? Wanna trade in the white suit for a night and play my date?"

Smiling, she made him wait as she considered his proposal. "I dunno… The last few heists have been fun. My personal favorite was the Faberge egg… but I think seeing Bart in that 14th century Bishop's Miter was definitely a highlight."

"His dancing skills have improved," Oliver agreed, remembering the young speedster doing the Egyptian with a touch of the moonwalk.

She chuckled lightly. "As long as he stops doing the _Dolphin_ and calling himself AC, anything is an improvement."

"We'll have to show him how it's done," he returned, grinning.

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "All right, all right… I'll see what my closet has to offer for formal wear."

He grinned. "I may have already ordered you a dress…" At her unamused expression, he shrugged. "Ralph Lauren owed me a favor."

"What could you have _possibly_ done that Ralph Lauren is on your speed dial for just this sort of occasion?"

He merely smirked. "Does it matter? You've got a new dress and I've got a date. I'm chalking this up to the win column."

A rather incredulous laugh escaped her. "You're ridiculous."

"I prefer _eccentric_."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes. "Back to business… Let's make a plan. We usually do this when there aren't a good _two dozen_ people to eye-witness you."

"So I'll have to take out the lights…" He winked at her. "I do my best work in the dark."

* * *

That night, with the party in full swing, they arrived arm in arm. Pausing in the doorway to the banquet room, their eyes did an automatic sweep. "I count six stories at least, all dressed up and playing their part when they _should_ be planning their next move in the courtroom," she scoffed.

"Play nice, dear," he replied lightly. "We keep a low profile and maybe fewer people will be looking at us when I pull my Houdini act."

"Speaking of, how stiff is the suit beneath the suit?" she wondered, turning toward him and readjusting the lapels of his jacket, feeling the stiff leather just beneath the fine fabric.

He smiled down at her. "Leather and Armani have never been so different."

She snorted. "Makes you feel better, I don't think it's noticeable." She eyed him up and down and then gave him a wink, tugging on his lapels teasingly. "No, you're definitely making discomfort look good."

He laughed under his breath and then let his eyes take her in. The strapless black silk, beaded dress was stunning on her; hugging her curves while still being demure enough for the event, it was thirteen hundred dollars well spent… not that he'd ever tell Chloe how much he'd spent on her. Forever the bargain shopper, she would have happily and easily found a dress for a hundred or less and still would have fit in just fine with the haute couture dress-up dolls that surrounded them. It was a habit of his she couldn't break, however; the desire to give her things that could've but weren't out of her reach. Which was why her embroidered black clutch was another $2500 gift she'd never see the price tag of.

"Have you I mentioned yet how stunning you look?"

She popped her hip out and laughed sweetly. "Just a few dozen times, Romeo."

He inhaled through his teeth and shook his head. "I'll be batting them off with a stick."

"Leave the cute ones and I'll take my pick," she replied with a wink.

"Ollie! Chloe!" called a man, drawing their attention. "It's been too long!" Separating from his group of friends, Simon Westcott brought his much younger wife along by her hand and waved them toward him. "Come over here."

Smile stiff, Oliver hugged Chloe to his side as they walked slowly in compliance. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, "Three coffee dates, no cell phone, says he hits on you."

She scoffed. "Please, Candice is already eye-sexing you."

Clearing his throat to cover a laugh, he turned back to the couple as they paused in front of them. "Hello," he said, trying to avoid the inviting smile Candice Westcott was sending in his direction.

"Hi Oliver," she drawled, her eyes taking the time to roam him from head to toe.

Chloe stifled her amusement. "Mr. Westcott," she greeted, smiling politely. "It really has been just… _forever_."

"Busy times, dear," he agreed, reaching for and holding onto her hand longer than needed.

"Too early for an interview on the indictment hearings?" she asked, grinning ruefully.

He laughed robustly, waving his finger at her. "You've got a little minx on your hands, Ollie! She won't let up, I tell you."

Candice frowned. "Even when polite company demands it…"

Chloe glanced at her, her eyes narrowing, just as her mouth opened to no doubt say something about how _polite_ she was being by acting as though she wanted to eat Oliver alive, with her husband standing right there next to her no less, Oliver squeezed her hip.

"Well, we were just going to get something to drink, so…" He motioned behind them. "We'll talk again soon," he assured before tugging Chloe away.

"Oh, it was nice seeing you both…" Simon called after their retreating backs, eyes lingering on Chloe.

"I wasn't going to claw her eyes out… Just take her down a peg or two," Chloe assured. "And you owe me three coffee dates, sans interruption."

He half-grinned. "How ever will I stand the torture…?"

She rolled her eyes, smiling up at him. "All right, so you get the goods and I'll be your cover story. We've got Bart on stand-by and Victor on the roof." She arched a brow and told him, "When you're back in your black and white duds, you can meet me by the punch bowl."

Smirking, he nodded. "Have I mentioned how good a team we make?"

Biting her lip to stop her smile, she shook her head. "Just a few hundred times over the last few years… Now get to the little boy's room, Lionel looks like he's getting ready for a speech."

Bending, he kissed her cheek. "Thank you." Making his way toward the bathrooms, he nodded toward various guests he recognized but continued his path.

Chloe watched him go, waiting to start her countdown until he was safely hidden away behind the bathroom door.

Turning, she looked out across the crowd as a glass clinked for attention.

Lionel Luthor stepped forward, drawing all eyes to him. "I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight," he began. "I hope you're having a _splendid_ time and that you've had a chance to reconnect with some _old_ friends. Right now though I'd like to introduce you to someone who I _hope_ will be a _new_ friend, a _valuable_ new friend. Someone I'm sure you'll be _glad_ to have on your side. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you, our _Kansas_ State Senator and your future _United_ States Senator, Martha Kent." He turned back to her, nodding for her to take his place as he stood back.

Just as Martha stood before the group, Chloe allowed herself a slight smirk of expectation before an arrow cut through the air and slammed point-blank into a panel against the wall, cutting off the lighting. As everyone turned to see where it had come from, Green Arrow ran through the part in the crowd to stand equal with Martha, and grabbed her necklace quick and easy from her neck. Holding it tight in his green-gloved fist, he said, "Thank you…" before turning and rushing back out. As he disappeared from sight, the crowd went wild with speculation.

Chloe stood back and waited for the lights to return. Just a couple short minutes later, a buzzing in her clutch drew her attention. Reaching inside, she drew it out and read across the white screen of her cell phone: _Eggs with Rooster. See you soon._

Her lips curled; Victor had the necklace in hand and Oliver was on his way back. Just then, the lights were turned back on thanks to a little technical assistance from the guards. But the event was clearly over; everybody was more interested in what had just happened than what Senator Kent might have to say. Chloe moved across the room to stand near the drink table against the bright blue panel walls and smiled as a warm hand slid along her bare shoulder. She glanced up at her best friend's smiling face.

"What's all the hubbub about?" he wondered.

She pursed her lips and lifted a shoulder. "Some tight-wearing vigilante broke up the festivities… It's really too bad, I was looking forward to the dinner they were offering. At a thousand-dollars a plate, I was expecting caviar and crumpets."

He snorted. "If you ever ate caviar, AC would never forgive you… and when have we ever had crumpets at one of these things?" He shook his head.

"Hey, don't ruin my fantasy dinner just because you missed all the action…" she teased.

Oliver scanned the room, seeing the many security guards all talking into their cufflinks and eyeing guests. "Think they'll let us out of here anytime soon?"

She shrugged. "We'll leave a forwarding address for their questions…" Wrinkling her nose, she looked up at him, "Pizza and beer? I can order it now and it'll probably be arriving by the time we get home."

He grinned. "What happened to caviar and crumpets?"

"Last I checked, Domino's didn't have that on their toppings list," she returned, dialing her cell phone as they left the room.

Chuckling lightly, he helped her get her coat on as she ordered their usual. "Yeah, we're ordering a large for delivery… Hey, you guys don't happen to have caviar, do you?" She glanced up at Oliver with bright eyes. "Yeah, well, fish are friends I guess… All right, so I'm getting a double pepperoni, green pepper, olives—"

He pointed purposefully at her. "Don't forget—"

"And can we get it light on the sauce…? Yeah, he seems to think it overpowers the flavor." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, and we're at—" She nodded. "Yeah, that's us… Do we really order _that_ often?"

Oliver hit the button for the elevator and leaned against the wall, waiting for her to finish. Behind them, the main room was still in chaos, while a beautiful Chloe was hanging up with the pizza man. What an unusual life they lived.

* * *

By the time SafeTex Security arrived, Chloe and Oliver were in the pajamas and watching Ocean's Twelve on his oversized couch. Feet up on the coffee table, near-empty box of pizza cooling close by, and each of them on their third beer, they were in _relax mode_ by the time Milo, the company runner, came knocking on the elevator door.

Milo was in his mid-fifties, by Chloe's assessment. He was tall, something he appeared proud of, using it to tower over those he wanted answers from. Broad shoulders, a square jaw, and a sharp suit helped that image.

"Mr. Queen, Miss. Sullivan…" He nodded at each of them, his expression of supreme seriousness. "I'm sorry to call this late, but you understand that situation, I'm sure."

Chloe tucked her hands away in the silk bathrobe she nicked off Oliver, the Q insignia on the breast a shiny gold thread that drew the eye. "We know the man who robbed Senator Kent of that necklace was pretty ballsy to come in when he did…" Her eyes narrowed. "You know, I'd be looking into my workers if I were you. He had to have some connections to get in and out the way he did… Have you figured out how he did that?" She circled him, taking a seat at the couch across from where he stood, his arms crossed in front of him. "For that matter, do you have _any_ footage from the break-in?"

"Excuse her," Oliver interrupted. "She's a reporter… Questions are her life."

Chloe smiled. "Habit of the job."

Milo nodded shortly. "If I'm to understand correctly, Miss. Sullivan, you were in the crowd when the attack happened, but your date… Mr. Queen," he turned to glance at him, "You left for the bathroom, is that right?"

"Nature calls," he replied, smiling.

"He'd been drinking champagne the whole drive over," Chloe said, waving her hand absently. "I warned him it'd come back on him. He missed Mr. Luthor's opening speech for the Senator and everything." She shook her head, frowning.

"Unfortunate, really," Oliver agreed.

Milo looked between them once more. "We might not have the footage from the attack, but we have what happened prior to it…" His eyes thinned, falling once more on Chloe. "If you remember anything, anything at all, please contact us." He handed over his card before taking his leave.

As the elevator lowered, Chloe's smile slipped away. "Did you see that?"

"The cold stare? Yeah, little hard to miss."

She frowned. "He knows something… or he thinks he does." She rose from her seat. "I have to get my hands on that footage."

Oliver nodded. "All right, we'll have Bart and Victor infiltrate."

"No…" She shook her head. "I'll hack it from a safe server. Right now, I think we should leave it alone. He just mentioned it; if I go in now, he'll think he struck a nerve and my going in could be a trap." Gnawing at her lip, she made her way back into the living room. "First thing tomorrow, I'll look into it."

Brows furrowed, he followed after her. "You sure? 'Cause usually when you get like this you think it to death… I doubt you'll get any sleep if you've got this on your mind."

"Better to lose a little sleep than have him and his team bust in on us Black Ops style," she assured, making her way back to the couch. "We'll finish the movie and then we'll get some sleep and take a look at everything in the morning."

"All right…" Not completely convinced but unwilling to bug her about it, he joined her on the couch once more.

He could tell the moment her mind had wandered from the movie; her eyes turned just to the left of the screen, staring off into space, and her fingers began tapping away at the arm of the couch. Rolling his eyes and smiling to himself knowingly, he reached over, grabbed up her feet and drew them into his lap.

Startled out of her thoughts, she shook her head. "Sorry… Shutting off my head isn't as easy as you'd think."

"With everything that goes on in that head, I'm not surprised."

Working his thumbs up the arch of her left foot, he kneaded into the knots. "Did I tell you Senator Kent was asking about you?"

Her brow furrowed. "Really? Why?"

He half-smiled. "Apparently, the gossip factory told her you'd likely be on my arm and knows you're a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, so… Autograph, I'm guessing?"

She snorted. "I'll get a headshot made up just for her."

"Can't argue that having a Senator as a fan is a good feeling."

Leaning back against the arm of the couch, she nodded. "It's an ego boost… Then again, she follows the gossip that you and I are a couple, so just how flattered should I be?"

He chuckled lightly. "We all have our guilty pleasures… And we really are infamously adorable."

She grinned. "And slightly arrogant about it, too."

He pursed his lips, shrugging. "Can you argue different?"

"No, we're definitely adorable… At least I am…"

He smiled, tugging at her big toe playfully. "This little piggy partied in Paris, and this one danced in Rome…" He wiggled her third. "This little piggy saved Borneo, and this one robbed Metropolis… But this little piggy," He reached for the smallest, with its deep purple polish shining atop the nail, "Smartest of them all, hacked security feeds, alllll night long."

She laughed, shaking her head at him. "Don't tell me the story ends there…"

He grinned. "We've got five toes left, who _knows_ where this is going."

With a giggle, she moved her foot over. "Carry on…"

So he did, until she laughed, tears in her eyes, mind settling down. They finished Ocean's Twelve, tossed their garbage away, and went to bed. Everything else could wait.

* * *

Oliver woke to a banging on the elevator door; instincts roaring to life, he immediately sat up, tossing the sheet and blanket away. When he realized whoever it was wasn't coming in, but definitely weren't just going to get the message and _leave_ either, he pursed his lips in irritation. Searching his bedroom, caring little that his morning intruders had to wait, he was annoyed that he couldn't find his bathrobe until he remembered Chloe had basically stolen it for herself. Shaking his head, he simply made his way toward the front foyer.

Chloe met him, tying said green robe at the waist as her stride fell in sync with his. "I don't even think Sara's in yet, who gets up _this_ early on a Sunday?" She rolled her eyes.

"The camera feed is set up in the elevator, right?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"Yeah." She walked toward the computer, glancing back at him as it loaded. "You going to scare them off with your naked chest or hope they're the swooning type?"

He smirked. "If somebody would stop stealing my robe, I wouldn't be half-naked right now."

"No," she argued, "if _somebody_ wore more clothes to bed you wouldn't be near-naked right now."

Biting his lip to keep in his chuckle, he shook his head. "What's the camera got for us?"

Looking back to the screen, her brows furrowed. "Huh… Senator Kent and her very handsome… Either that's her son or she like 'em young."

Oliver circled to take a look. "Full breakfast at _Petites Gelées_ says he's her son."

"Coffee at Metro Station Café, with a muffin if you're _lucky_ , says he's her bodyguard or boy toy," she said, grinning. "I know farmer's put in a good day's work but he's too built for cow raising."

Scoffing under his breath, he reached over for the sound and turned it on.

"You didn't have to come," her male companion said, glaring at the door.

"I wanted to meet Miss. Sullivan…" Senator Kent replied, lifting a shoulder. "I didn't get a chance to speak with her at the banquet last night…"

"You mean being robbed wasn't a good conversation starter?" he scoffed.

"Clark," she sighed, rolling her eyes to herself. "I know you're hesitant to trust Lionel, but he only wants the best for me… And I need his support." She turned toward him. "Mr. Queen has kindly offered to back my position as well, so _please_ … Be nice."

Jaw ticking, Clark nodded. "But if they know anything, we can't ignore it…"

"I hardly think a billionaire needs to steal a necklace… If you'd seen Miss. Sullivan last night, Clark, the dress she was wearing was Ralph Lauren… Her necklace alone was probably a down payment on a _house_." She sighed. "Can you imagine being that accustomed to fine things?" She laughed to herself. "Lionel let me wear that necklace and I felt like I had the Crown Jewels around my neck… It's no wonder somebody stole them, they looked completely out of place on me."

"Mom, that's ridiculous… I'm sure you looked beautiful. And I don't know who Ralph Lauren is, but you don't need one of his dresses to make you feel good about yourself."

She smiled gently at him. "Just because they have money doesn't mean there's anything wrong with them, Clark. They've both been involved with charities all over the globe for years now. Sometimes, some people get the breaks others don't; it doesn't make them any more or less of a person. It's what they choose to do with what they have that reflects who they are."

"So far they don't like answering doors…" he grumbled.

"I told you we should've waited until we could speak to the receptionist about an appointment."

"Waiting isn't getting us any closer to finding out where that necklace is."

She sighed, but didn't argue.

"Think we should put them out of their misery yet?" Chloe wondered, chewing her lip.

"Sure, and then you and I are getting breakfast," he said, smiling back at her smugly.

With a roll of her eyes, she pushed the button to unlock the elevator and watched as the metal paneling parted. Inside, Clark Kent frowned at each of them but reached for the cage door to slide it open, letting his mother step out.

"Senator Kent," Oliver said, grinning. "I'm sorry we're not dressed for guests."

Martha flushed, blinking at his non-existent apparel and then lifted her bright green eyes to his face. "We're sorry to drop in so early… Farm life does have a very different schedule…"

"With last night's events, we can definitely understand," Chloe replied, rising from her seat to join Oliver's side.

Senator Kent smiled at her. "Excuse the lack of manners, but it is _so_ nice to finally meet you, Miss. Sullivan. When Lionel told me he'd invited Mr. Queen, I was hoping you'd be accompanying him."

She smiled, glancing at Oliver as if she couldn't understand why Martha Kent would be interested at all. "Please," she said. "Call me Chloe… And before his ego inflates too much, it's just Oliver."

The Senator grinned between them. "Then you must call me Martha…" She turned slightly. "This is my son, Clark." She reached over to squeeze his forearm affectionately. "He's been speaking personally to each of the guests from last night's banquet."

"That's a committed son," Oliver said, nodding to him.

Clark firmed his mouth but simply nodded his head back in reply.

"How can we help?" Chloe wondered, tucking her hands in the pockets of her housecoat.

"We just have a few questions…" Clark turned to look at her. "I know you were both there, but from what I hear, Mr. Queen, you weren't in the room when the robbery happened."

He shook his head. "Bathroom break."

"And Miss. Sullivan, you said you didn't see anything…" He stared at her curiously. "You didn't make out any memorable features?"

She frowned slowly. "You know, it happened so fast… We were all waiting for Senator—" She smiled slightly. "Sorry, _Martha's_ speech and then… Arrow whizzes by and it's _literally_ lights out."

"See, that's the part that really stands out to me… He used an _arrow_ … Kind of like Star City's famed _Green Arrow_ , which you yourself wrote about in your paper back home." He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "I'm surprised the similarity didn't jump out at you… for a _Pultizer prize winning_ reporter and everything."

Martha frowned back at her son, her eyes clearly telling him to be nice.

Chloe smiled, though there was no humor in it. "Mr. Kent, I appreciate your investigative skills and I'm sure it's been really hard on you and your mother, especially with it all happening so quickly and SafeTex having no real leads… But Green Arrow and his many accomplishments in Star City have been toted about for a reason… And _if_ he's the one that stole your mother's necklace, I really only have one thing to say…" Her lips pursed. "That necklace must have quite the history behind it; the kind of history that doesn't come with a proof of purchase receipt."

His brows wrinkled. "Are you saying the necklace was stolen _before_ it was stolen?" He glanced at his mother and then back at Chloe. "How do you know that?"

"Her Pulitzer wasn't a shiny shelf decoration," Oliver interceded. "Now, I'm sorry Senator about what happened to you, but I didn't see anything and Chloe, try as she might, has little to go on."

"Really?" Clark crossed his arms over his broad chest. "'Cause from where I'm standing, it looks like she knows a lot more than she's saying."

Oliver reached out, his hand falling on Chloe's shoulder.

She mellowed her temper and smiled at their company. "I did some research. Anybody with fingers and a background in computers could pull up what I did." Okay, that was a bit of a stretch, but still… "Like any good reporter worth her salt, I looked into things… Senator Kent isn't the only one of Metropolis' who's-who to be hit… In fact, most of those under SafeTex have suffered the same fate. Interesting little fact though…"

"For victims, they're pretty uncooperative," Oliver finished for her. "Funny how none of them called the police after being robbed." He lifted a brow.

Martha frowned. "How can you be sure they knew what they were buying wasn't legitimate?" But even as she asked, her doubt was showing.

Oliver offered a faint smile. "I'm sorry, Senator Kent… I'm sure you and Lionel have history and I know he's been a good friend in helping you with your candidacy… But we're only telling you what we know."

She nodded. "Well, thank you…" She looked up to Clark. "But I think it's time we go."

Unconvinced, Clark looked as though he had more questions to asked, but sighed at his mother's persistent stare. "Yes, thank you for your cooperation."

"Sure…" Chloe turned back to the Senator. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe next time we can discuss something a little less depressing." She grinned warmly.

Martha nodded. "Yes, I'm not sure Oliver told you but I'm an avid reader of your work. You have a way with words." She waved her hand dismissively. "Next time then." She inclined her head to each of them before following Clark to the elevator.

As the doors closed, Clark Kent's suspicious eyes stared back at them.

"That was _fun_ ," Oliver muttered.

"Terribly…" she sighed. Looking up at him, she cocked her head. "So…? Breakfast?"

He grinned. "Twist my rubber arm."

* * *

Sitting at a table in _Petites Gelées_ , Chloe reached into her purse for her buzzing phone while Oliver was away at the bathroom. Seeing her cousin's phone number, she smiled, shaking her head to herself. Pushing the talk button, she greeted, "Lois."

"Hey," Lois returned, her tone excited. "Not too early, right? I tried to let you get in your bendy yoga porn."

She rolled her eyes. "No, we're up and out… We're just sitting down for breakfast now."

"And my invitation got lost in the mail, I suppose," she scoffed. "Anyway, on to more important things than my morning OJ…"

"Let me guess," she said wryly. "You need help researching your next article."

"Yeah, the Inquisitor's search engine consists of a _highlighter_ and the yellow pages," she complained. " _Annnd…_ A little birdy, namely one with a camera, spotted you and Oliver at a certain botched Senator's funding something-or-other."

Stirring the cream she'd poured into her coffee, Chloe shrugged slightly. "It wasn't _completely_ botched…" She took a long sip, licking her lips of the leftover caffeine buzz. "Her name's out there more than before."

"Yeah, but not for anything _good_ …"

She sighed. "I'm sure she'll pull out on top anyway. She's got a great platform behind her and with Oliver and Lionel supporting her, she'll have a few more donators sooner than you think."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered dismissively. "What I really want to know is just who this masked burglar was doing there and what he got away with. More importantly, I wanna know who he is."

" And you're coming to me because I just so happened to unmask him and didn't mention it?"

"Please," she scoffed. "If you had it'd be plastered all over the papers by now. No, I just need some info on him and I'll do the rest of the digging."

"Info like what? Lois, I didn't exactly sit him down and interview him in between his minor act of theft, which by the way, was of a _stolen_ necklace to begin with."

"Well all I got on the scumbag if everything everybody else is saying. Green leather, tights, and an archery badge… Y'know, if I didn't know better, I'd say this was Star City's jolly green reject come to spread a little mischief around Metropolis."

"First of all, Green Arrow's been highly _praised_ in Star City… Why does everybody forget that fact when somebody wearing leather does something that doesn't immediately scream _good?_ "

"What d'you mean _immediately?_ Chloe, he _stole_ a necklace off a Senator's neck… How arrogant can one guy get?"

"He said _thank you_ ," she muttered.

"Aha, so you _do_ know something else… I can roll with that… Green Arrow Bandit Thanks His Victims…"

"Okay, can we back up the headline train a bit? One, I just told you that this _wasn't_ Green Arrow… And _two_ … The Bandit part feels a little out of place."

"Is there a third point I can ignore?" she snarked.

"Technically, Martha wasn't the victim… Lionel was. It was _his_ necklace and Martha just happened to be wearing it."

"Martha?" she repeated, scoffing. "Since when are you on a first name basis with the Senator of Kansas?"

"Since she woke me up this morning while I was still snug in my pj's," she returned, half-smiling.

"Great… I meet her, all smiles and polite, and I get the standard go-to answers. You meet her in your Charlie Brown two-piece and you get to call her _Martha_ … Where is the justice?"

Chloe chuckled, shaking her head. "My apologies, Lois… I'll be sure to insult her next time."

"Whatever, just give me a little more scoop on this sucker so I can put something together that doesn't sound like a repeat of everybody else's take."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore than what I have… I didn't get a good look at him; it was dark."

Lois scoffed. "As if the _dark_ has ever scared off a journalist… This was a big story, cuz, why weren't you chasing it down?"

She sighed, taking another drink of her coffee. "It happened really fast… He was there and gone so quick I would've thought I'd imagined it if it wasn't for everybody else. I'm sorry; I can't make something out of nothing."

"All right, fine…" she sighed. "I'll just have to go this one alone." Returning to her former excitement, she boasted, "I'm telling you, Chlo, this is gonna be my big break. I can feel it!"

She smiled. "Just keep me updated."

Lois hesitated before finally saying, "Actually, you know, since we're both in the same biz and one of us already _has_ a Pulitzer, I probably shouldn't be leaking my story."

Chloe laughed incredulously. "I can't believe you don't trust me!" Admittedly, given the situation, she did see the irony of the situation. But _still…_

"It's not _all_ of you I don't trust. It's just… one little side of you," she explained.

"Lois, I'm not gonna scoop your story but since we don't know much about this _Bandit_ and with your track record of running headfirst into things…" She stared at her seriously. "I just want to be sure you're safe, all right?"

She rolled her eyes. "What, you think he's going to escalate from burglary to battery?" She blew out a breath of dismissal. "He wears _tights_ … He's not getting the pinch on _me_ anytime soon."

She smiled to herself, checking the immediate response of telling her they _weren't_ tight, Oliver's voice ringing in her mind. "Uh-huh, just be careful, okay?"

"Cross my heart!"

As they hung up, Oliver returned to the table, nodding as she put her phone away. "Anyone special?"

"Just your favorite cousin of mine," she replied, resting her elbows on the table.

Oliver wrinkled his nose. "She want an exclusive on the robbery?"

"Of course."

"And?"

"And I told her to be careful… That this non-Green-Arrow-affiliated _bandit_ could be dangerous and that she has a bad habit of attracting that danger."

"They saw the suit, they'll start connecting the dots," he reminded, reaching for his own coffee, which she'd already added his favored cream and sugar to.

"Yes, but I don't have to be the one to open their eyes."

He shrugged. "Let them do their digging and come to their conclusions…" He shrugged. "Those who want to believe, will, and those who don't care will just run with whatever's being fed to them."

Eyes wide with emphasis, she said, "Let's hope there's more believers and less mudslinging."

The waitress returned with their breakfast then and their attention was turned.

Chloe moved one of her pancakes over to his plate and stole a piece of his sausage while Oliver slid the ketchup over for her to spread on her hashbrowns. Until said yay- or nay-sayers started up, they could at least enjoy their morning.

* * *

Come Monday morning, Chloe had Lois' paper in hand and was shaking her head. "I can't believe her…"

Meeting her in the kitchen, he sat down next to her at the island and read the headline over her shoulder. " _The Green Arrow Bandit_ … It doesn't really roll off the tongue."

"I _told_ her that Green Arrow had nothing to do with this…" she sighed.

"Except that… _he did_." Oliver grinned. "Maybe she did some digging and came up with the first connection."

"Or maybe she fudged a few facts in favor of a bigger story…" At Oliver amusement, she rolled her yes. "Don't get too sure of yourself… FYI, Lois has it out for him. She wants his face plastered all over the front page and soon. She's hunting for his name as we speak."

Quirking a brow at her, he asked, "Should I get out my boots and make a show of quaking in them?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ollie, if she gets Green Arrow's name out there and people believe her, it puts your integrity at risk… Yes, we know we're doing it for the right reasons, but having a bunch of vigilante haters out there doesn't exactly make our job easy."

He shrugged. "It had to come out sometime."

She shook her head. "Read her article… She's practically calling for blood. In her opinion, the Green Arrow is the enemy and she'll do whatever she can to unmask him."

He frowned. "For any specific reason or just because it's a slow news day?"

"She wants a headline. Lois has never been the sit around and wait for action to come to you type… She gets her head out there, gets run over and only does it again and again." Sighing, she leaned forward against the counter. "We need to get her off the scent…" Her eyes began darting to and fro; she had a plan to work out.

* * *

Frowning down at his phone, Oliver dialed the number and sat back, waiting for an answer on the other end.

"Too busy to banter, what's up?" Lois said in greeting.

He half-smiled. "Too busy for a trip back to the Lodge…?" he suggested.

"The Lodge," she asked, her voice taking on a dreamy texture. "Hey, wait a second… Did Chloe put you up to this?"

He frowned. "No… Why?"

"'Cause just this morning she was telling me to _be careful_ and _keep her updated_ and she kept trying to convince me I had this Bandit guy all wrong…" She scoffed. "I've done a little research, Oliver, and from the descriptions I'm getting off these guests, this guy's a dead ringer for Star City's Green Arrow… I can't believe Chloe missed that."

"Yeah, well, it was dark and all that…" he dismissed. "Look, I can have you pampered and relaxed before the night's out. Pack your bags and I'll have the jet ready and fueled."

"Much as I'd like that, and I'd _really_ like that…" she mused, "I've got the lead of my life dangling in front of me, so I'm gonna have to rain-check on the offer."

Oliver sighed, closing his eyes. "Lois, you've been bugging me about it since you and Chloe checked out, you really wanna pass up on this rare opportunity?"

"What's this _really_ about, Oliver?" she asked. "Like you said, I've been asking for weeks and only _now_ are you actually saying yes…? I know Chloe's a big influence on you, but come on… You have to know how important this is to me."

"I know. It's just…" He pursed his lips. "Listen, I don't like the idea of you dangling yourself out as bait in front of this guy, you know? I mean, anyone after the Green Arrow's gonna come after you."

"So you admit you think it's the Green Arrow?"

He rolled his eyes. "I admit _you_ think it is."

"Uh-huh. Well, it doesn't matter. 'Cause anyone after the Green Arrow is a friend of mine, and I will be sitting front and center with them when they lock this guy up!" she boasted.

Oliver sighed. "Wow, wouldn't want you on _my_ jury."

She scoffed. "Meaning...?"

"Well, you know, I thought we did away with the _shoot first, ask questions later_ mentality with covered wagons… In any of this research you did, did you happen to come across this neat little tid-bit about how the necklace was previously stolen…? Black Market mean _anything_ to you?"

"Oh, come on. Don't feed me the Robin Hood line…" she snorted.

"All right, Lois, you needle away at this until you find what you're looking for… But keep an open mind, all right? Let's not hang him before we get the whole story."

"Yes, _dad_ …"

Rolling his eyes, he hung up the phone, tucking it back in his pocket. Chloe was _not_ going to be happy. He sighed. The things he did for his best friend…

* * *

 

That night, Oliver stood atop a ledge on the Daily Planet building and touched the comm. in his ear. "In position. Building in sight," he said, his voice masked with the distorter. "Remind me again why this couldn't be a two-man job?"

"My suit's in for cleaning," Chloe joked, sitting safe back at Queen Towers. "Look, I'm all for team activities but with Cyborg out of town again, I really don't like it when we don't have a visual on the location… Impulse is always good for a quick extraction, but I can't leave him alone with the computers. Besides… Now's as good as time as any for you to let  _Mrs._ Westcott know you're available. And I'd only be in the way," she teased.

He snorted. "Don't even  _joke_ about that."

She chuckled softly. "You're right, your luck with women lately is subpar."

He rolled his eyes. "Just because I couldn't talk Lois into a vacation…"

"A vacation she's been  _begging_ you for! How did you screw that up?"

He snorted. "Apparently, I'm more important than pedicures."

She scoffed lightly. "Prove it… You ready?"

"And waiting," he replied.

"Go," she told him.

Lips curving up in a smirk, Oliver zoomed his glasses in to see Simon Westcott smoking away on his balcony, arguing on his phone. Reaching back, he plucked an arrow from his back, aimed for the man and then raised his bow until it ran equal with the top of the building's flag pole. Drawing tight on the string, he relaxed, felt the wind around him, readjusted and released the arrow into the night. He felt as it locked onto its target, attached to a wire pinned into a wall behind him. Lowering his bow, he waited as it readjusted and lifted it up to attach to the cable before he leapt off the ledge and zip-lined down to the top of Westcott's apartment building. At he reached the end, he let go and jumped into a barrel-roll, returning to his feet and scanning the rooftop for any security guards.

"You know your way in or you want a step-by-step guide?" Chloe's voice spoke into his ear.

"I remember the blueprint," he assured.

Ten minutes later he was standing inside the carefully guarded room where an ancient statue wore the necklace in question. "We're sure this is the  _only_ stolen item?" he asked, looking around at the various artifacts lining shelves, tabletops and locked away in cases.

"It's the only one we have a record on," she replied. "Eyes on the prize, Arrow."

Grinning, he lifted his bow, notching a gem-tipped arrow in it and aimed center for the laser security on the ceiling. Successfully turning the lasers to the sides, he was free and clear to walk directly to the statue. As his bow retracted to a compact size, he placed it in his holster and jogged silently to where the statue sat. Carefully taking the necklace from its position, he drew out a cloth bag and placed it inside. Just as he turned to leave, he saw a figure standing at the end of the room, shrouded by darkness.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Hand on his bow, Oliver turned toward him. "Haven't you read? I'm the Green Arrow."

"Bandit," Chloe snickered in his ear.

Clark Kent's face became visible as he stepped closer. "Well… I hope you enjoyed your cult status while it lasted."

Chloe sighed. "I trust you can handle this, but Bart's on standby if you need him."

Oliver half-smiled, looking Kent up and down. "I think you're taking the whole neighborhood-watch thing a bit too seriously." Walking forward, aiming to go right past him without a problem, Clark reached out and shoved a hand into his gut, stopping him in his place.

Slightly surprised by the strength behind it, Oliver looked down at the hand on him and then back up at the farm boy glaring at him.

He hadn't wanted to fight, but if the kid wasn't going to let it go… Curling his hand into a fist, he took a swing at him, surprised when Clark easily caught it and then  _tossed_ him across the room, crashing into a glass case and rolling to the floor. Alarms began blaring loudly.

Cursing at the sudden impact and the noise that followed, Oliver rolled to his back.

"Okay, that was not Johnny Do-Gooder's grunt of pain… Arrow, what's your status?" Chloe demanded.

Grunting as he sat up, he shook his head to clear it. "I've got it." Looking up to Clark, he pushed himself from the floor. "That was fun… Looks like I'm not the only one with a secret." Walking toward a fiercely glaring Clark Kent, Oliver grinned. "Hate to break it to you, tough guy, but you're on the wrong side."

Clark's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure the police would agree."

"Look around you, Beav," he said, motioning with his arm as the alarms sung wildly. "The days of the good guy running the show are over." Drawing his hand-held bow out, he squeezed the trigger and let loose an arrow meant to stun Farmer Kent.

Catching it easily, Clark simply stared at it, rolling it between his fingers.

Mouth ajar, Oliver cocked his head. "Bad sign…" he muttered.

"Ollie?" Chloe asked. "Security's going to be there any second—"

Just then, a security guard entered the room and Oliver turned, releasing a second stun arrow; this time successfully dropping the man. And as Clark turned to check on him, Oliver shook his head and made his escape.

"I'm on my way back... Call off Impulse."

"Affirmative," she replied, though the hesitancy in her voice made him pause.

"No worries, Sunshine…" He half-grinned. "He caught me off guard, but I'm fine."

"Except for that bruised ego, I take it," she returned lightly.

"There is that…" he laughed.

"Come home," she ordered.

With a smile, he listened.

* * *

While waiting for Oliver to get back, Chloe noticed his phone was buzzing, for the _third_  time since he'd left. She'd been gnawing at her lip non-stop since he'd found himself face-to-face with somebody looking to thwart their plans. Very rarely had they been caught in the act; especially since their team had increased in size. With so many extra hands and eyes watching, they were able to strategize ways to get around just this sort of thing. But there was always the chance they'd be caught; who it was that did the catching she didn't know. Not many could successfully take on Oliver and while he'd had a good run of it, Ollie had come out the victor in the end. But it was close; too close for her liking.

As the buzzing continued, she finally reached over and grabbed up his cell. It was Alden again; he'd been trying to set up a dinner date or meeting with Oliver for the last month. Shaking her head, she turned off the ringer. She knew the bad blood between them and Alden had a tendency to bring it all back up. But it was Oliver's business and she wasn't going to get in the middle of it; in her opinion, they all needed to do a lot of apologizing and forgiving and move on already. Wasting their lives in booze and women wasn't getting them anywhere.

She heard the clang of his bow unhooking from the chord and heard the slap of his leather boots against the floor as he entered through the window and rolled to his feet once more. Reaching for his side, he leaned back and tried to loosen up the muscles, grimacing all the while. "Remind me never to let anybody throw me anywhere ever again."

She snorted. "Because you had much say in the matter."

He rolled his eyes. "This job should come with medical…"

Laughing, she crossed the room to him, reaching for the zipper on his vest and lowering it in one quick pull of her arm. Shifting it back off his shoulders, she drew it down his arms and tugged it away. "You want me to grab the A535 or just run a hot bath?"

His nose wrinkled. "I'll take a shower later… I wanna show you what Senator Kent's son can do." While he made his way to the computer, Chloe bee-lined it for the bathroom, searching through the cabinet for the Rub A535 before making her way to the office. He'd hooked his glasses up and was fast-forwarding the video to where he wanted it when she reached him.

Shifting his black muscle tee out of the way, she bunched it so it would stay in place before she spread the cream into her hands. "This'll be cold," she warned before pressing her fingers against his lower back.

Inhaling sharply through his teeth, he leaned forward on the desk. "It's mostly my left side," he told her.

"'Kay." Kneeling down, she rubbed her hand along his side and up near his ribs, spreading the gel with her palm. "Show me," she asked, nodding up to the computer.

Oliver pressed the play button and then stared at the screen as he watched the scene between he and Clark play out before his eyes. Chloe's fingers stroked up and down his side as she watched, thumbs rubbing circles along his ribs, only stilling when Clark  _caught_ the arrow meant to stun him before she began rubbing once more.

Distracted by her touch, his eyes fell sightlessly to the desktop as she kneaded gently at his side. He could feel a tingle along his skin as the gel activated, warm and cool at the same time. He swallowed thickly as her fingers danced low, skimming the top of his leather pants.

"He doesn't even blink when you fire at him," she murmured. "Like he knew that whatever you had, whatever was coming, it couldn't hurt him." Her brows furrowed. "Powers… like Lex had." She turned, staring up at him searchingly. "You think this is the guy that blew out the fire?" She scoffed rather incredulously. "Senator Kent's son has super-powers… Wait a second." She stood suddenly, her hands leaving him, for which he found himself sorely disappointed. "Oh my god, I can't believe I…" Shaking her head, she threw her hands up. " _Clark Kent!_ Of course!"

"Of course what?" He leaned back in the chair, shaking his head. "Wanna let the rest of us in on the epiphany?"

"You remember I told you that for the longest time I kept looking into Lex Luthor and coming up with stuff about some regular farmboy named Clark?" She smiled at her slow train of thought. "Lex has been investigating Clark since they were friends,  _years_ ago… He was under the impression that meteor rock was somehow influencing some of the people in Smallville and that  _Clark_  had come into some powers of his own, powers he didn't tell his former best friend about, no matter how much Lex asked…" She shook her head. "Whatever powers he might've had though, it seemed he was always using them for good."

"Which is probably why he tried to stop me tonight…" He frowned. "He doesn't care if the necklaces are previously stolen, he just knows they're being stolen again and he won't let it happen…"

"He probably wants the necklace that we took from Martha back so she can return it to Lionel…" Her lips pursed. "This guy's black and white, there's no grey with him…"

"So what do we do? Play nice?" He scoffed. "He  _threw_ me across the room… And just because he wants to help his mom and he's done a few good deeds back home, doesn't mean we can trust him  _or_ his powers… Look at what Lex did with his! He nearly  _leveled_ Metropolis."

"Let's not jump to conclusions… Just because he threw you off your game is no reason to string him up…" Shaking her head, she sighed. "Look, why don't you get out of your leathers and I'll look into this guy a little more, all right?"

Frowning, he nodded. Rising from his seat, he started for the room they were keeping their things in. Thanks to a highly secure contractor, they were able to build a safe room to keep their gear and gadgets out of sight. While Oliver mumbled to himself over his current dislike for all things Clark Kent and super-powers, Chloe began searching out everything she could find on him, including her own files filched off of Lex over the years.

It seemed Clark had a history of being in the right place at the right time, or vice-versa depending on the outcome; saving people was practically his only job. Having grown up in Smallville, he hadn't ventured much outside of home except when a helping hand was needed. More than any other search engine could bring up, Lex's files were overflowing with information; from Clark's good deeds to his lack of trust in the younger, balder Luthor. Chloe chalked that up to smart thinking, but she found herself wondering if perhaps Clark had bigger secrets; the kind that Lex might've exploited given the chance. It wasn't as if he didn't like playing with things best left alone; Victor being one of his many experiments over the years.

Just then, Chloe's cell phone began ringing and vibrating for attention. Reaching over, she angled it to check the number and smiled to herself as Lois' name blinked. Flipping it open, she held it up to her ear. "Lois, hey."

" _AGHHHH! Chloe!_ " a distant scream replied. " _HELP!_ "

Brows furrowing, Chloe jumped from her chair, backing up as she listened hard for any more to go off of than banging and Lois' terrified cry for help. Her heart lurched in her chest before a burning anger exploded inside. Like hell they were going to get her cousin! Snapping her phone shut, she pulled up the GPS coordinates on her cousin and found her cell was showing her back at her apartment. Turning, she crossed the apartment at a run, entering the safe room where Oliver was putting away the last of his equipment. Dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and his favorite Excelsior hoodie, Green Arrow was hung up for later.

"You need to suit back up," she said urgently.

Brows furrowed, he nodded, walking back toward his leathers, dragging his hoodie off as he went. Chloe didn't take the time to enjoy the sight, instead telling him, "Lois called… In the midst of screaming for help I got the idea she was being kidnapped."

He scowled. "For  _what?_ "

"Information, I'd assume." She shook her head. "She got on her kick about Green Arrow and she was making connections that SafeTex couldn't. They probably saw her article and assumed she knew something they didn't… They'll want to know who her source is and if they're smart, they'll realize it's me. Put two and two together and they'll know that I wasn't just at the benefit to hear a speech." Worriedly, she bit her lip. "Oliver… We need to get Lois back…" Her eyes hardened. "I won't be the reason she gets hurt."

"Nobody's getting hurt…" he said firmly. He dragged his black muscle shirt back on and reached for his vest. "How do you want to play this?"

"We go in together, extract her, teach SafeTex a little lesson and maybe we show Clark Kent what a real hero does on his off-time."

A smile slowly crept up his face.

* * *

Two SafeTex thugs dragged Lois Lane down a damp, dirty hallway to a large tub of water, her arms tied in front of her. Dropping her to her knees, they pulled the tape from her mouth and glared down at her gasping, tear-stained face. "How much do you know about the Green Arrow?" one demanded.

Lois sneered back, "I should've known he wouldn't have the stones to face me in person."

The two men looked at each other before picking her up. A hand each on her shoulder and the other on her knee, they lifted her up and dunked her deep into the water, holding her as she struggled pointlessly, head shaking to and fro, desperate for air. Drawing her back out and dropping her to her knees, one grabbed her throat and said, "Tell us who your source is!"

Coughing, gasping for air, Lois glared up at him before finally spitting in his face.

Growling, he picked her up again and dunked her deep into the tub of water, holding her in place until she was no doubt sure she was going to suffocate before finally dragging her back out. "Who is the Green Arrow?"

"Like you don't know," she gasped thickly, eyes narrowing. "A good reporter never reveals her sources…"

Sneering, he reached once more, turning back toward the water.

"That's enough," came a voice. Milo stepped out from the shadows to glare down at Lois thoughtfully. "This _Bandit_... has made a joke of the firm I've worked my life to build. He's walked off with more than $30 million from my clients."

Lois stared up at him. "Then why am I the one with bruises on my knees right now?"

Milo tilted his head. "Because your cousin isn't as easy a target…"

Confused, Lois' eyes narrowed.

"Seconds before Green Arrow interrupts the party, Chloe Sullivan smiles… And the next day you've got pieces to a story nobody else has…" He shook his head. "Green Arrow was first sighted in Star City, first written about by  _your_  cousin, and you expect me to believe she didn't  _know_ it was him?" He cocked his head, frowning darkly. "We may not be able to get to _her_ , but she trusted you enough to tell you  _something_."

"I don't know who he is. For that matter, neither does Chloe." She struggled against the arms holding her. "You think she'd keep a story like that locked up?" She scoffed. "So she smiled, big deal! She was there with Oliver Queen; any woman with a heartbeat would've been smiling." Her eyes narrowed, lips curving in a smirk. "You've got squat and you're taking it out on me because you  _know_ it."

" _You_ splashed my humiliation across the front page of the paper," he bit out. "And now you're going to help me rectify that.

"I'm not helping you do  _anything_."

Milo lifted his brows at his henchmen, who promptly thrust Lois back down into the water. Silently, he watched as she jerked and fought to no avail, her struggled beginning to fail before finally she was still. They drew her out; she unconsciously fell back against their legs.

Milo didn't even blink. "She doesn't know anything. Kill her."

Stepping back, they let her fall limply to the floor, while one of them drew a gun from his waist and aimed it at her, both hands on the grip, squeezing the trigger without remorse. Half-way through its trajectory the bullet was intercepted by a green arrow, sending it off its course. As the three men turned to see where it was coming from, eyes moving to and fro and spotting nothing except a slight shimmering, there above the landing, a second  _white_  arrow appeared from exactly where they were looking. It lodged in the other henchmen's shoulder, throwing him off his feet. While the gunmen searched for that same shimmery sign, an arrow came from his left, hit the wall behind him, and Green Arrow zip-lined in, landing just feet from him as the henchman lifted his gun. Oliver used his bow to knock the man to the side, crashing into crates and boxes and unconscious against the hard concrete.

Behind him, Milo raised his own gun, only to have a white arrow slam painfully into his hand, protruding as he waved it about, his gun falling to the ground. Growling, he bent low to grab it, but two more arrows pierced either of his shoulders, the force behind them sending him flying backward until he lay staring dazedly at the ceiling. Oliver glanced up to the overhang to see if he could see Chloe, but the sound of her boots drew his attention back to Milo's body, where she stood over him, glaring down, her white back in focus.

Brows furrowed, Milo stared in confusion at her. "Who… Who  _are_ you?"

Kneeling next to him, the lights above made her glow ethereally, like some vengeful angel that had come down for him, her wrath following. "Get a different job, Milo… Take up a trade, invest in stocks, retire for all I care, but get out of the security business… Or I'll  _make_ you."

Swallowing thickly, he opened his mouth as if to argue, but she reached for the end of one of her arrows and twisted the quiver, releasing a green gas that effectively knocked him out. Rising to her feet, she crossed the room to stand next to Oliver, who was frowning down at Lois. "I bet she'll take me up on that vacation at the Lodge  _now_ …" he muttered.

Chloe scoffed lightly. "Do me a favor and get her out of here, will you?"

He turned, lifting a brow at her. "And what are you going to do?"

She smiled. "Clean up."

With a sigh, he bent low and lifted Lois up into his arms, hooking her tied hands behind his neck. "She's not as light as she looks," he muttered before lifting his cross bow and shot a rope through the ceiling to lift them away to safety.

Chloe turned back around and smirked. As far as she was concerned, SafeTex had just put in its resignation and she was going to make sure it stayed that way.

* * *

Oliver dropped Lois carefully to the ground, just beneath the bright lights of a billboard. Bringing her home would only arouse her suspicion more and the last thing he needed was for her to keep asking questions and following her current train of thought. Hands on his hips, he wondered if he should leave her alone or call in the cops. If it were Chloe, he would have brought her back to the penthouse and waited by her side. Her favorite tea would be on hand, the kind she always asked for when she was feeling down or a particular fight had ended in too many bruises to count. With Lois, he only knew how to banter with her, tease her endlessly, and treat her generally like an older brother might.

Suddenly, she stirred, and he argued with himself over whether now was a good time to leave or not. Some part of him wanted to remind her that he hadn't been the person behind her kidnapping and hopefully get Green Arrow on her good side, while another part just thought he should get his ass out of sight and hopefully track Chloe down before she blew up the SafeTex facility out of vengeance. True his best friend had a heart of gold, but Milo and his goons had just tried to kill her favorite cousin; she wasn't going to walk away and let it be.

Against his better judgment, Oliver walked closer, peering down at the slowly waking Lois Lane. Groggily and clearly feeling the pain she'd been put through, she reached up for her throbbing head.

"You okay?" he asked.

Striking suddenly, she slammed her hand into his chest, grabbed his head and flipped him over onto the pebble floor beside her while she rose to her feet, taking his crossbow with her. "No thanks to you!" she snarled, aiming his own bow at him.

Sighing from his position on the ground, he sat up slowly. He really shouldn't have underestimated her; Chloe warned him that Lois had a hate on for the Green Arrow. Jaw set, he told her, "I _saved_ you."  _Admittedly, with some help_. Mentioning Watchtower would only add another story to the pile and the longer she could stay out of the limelight, the better.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "From goons who were trying to find  _you_." She backed up as he rose to his feet, keeping his bow trained on him. "They're not the only ones with a "V" for Vendetta on your little leather ass."

He frowned. " _Little?_  I've been really working the glutes lately, too."

Her brows spiked, unamused. "Did the humor come with the costume?"

"Did the "Tomb Raider" routine come from wanting daddy's attention?"

Lois squeezed the trigger, planting and arrow in her the billboards wooden leg, just a few inches from his body. "Oops... Guess my aim's a little rusty. Now…" She began She raised the bow, equipped with another arrow, and walked toward him. "Let's take off those glasses and unveil our Prince of Thieves, shall we?" With one hand training the bow and the other reaching for his glasses, Oliver's jaw tightened.

He could imagine just how badly this was going to play out; Lois was going to have a fit, she'd call Chloe, who would try and calm her down and then the two of them would begin fighting just as soon as Lois realized Chloe knew all along. If they were lucky, she wouldn't whisper a word of it in her paper, but she'd still be hurt that they were doing something this big and dangerous and she didn't know about it. And worse, she might even want to  _join_ them. He loved Lois like family, he did, but the last place he wanted her was on his team.

Just as her fingers nearly made contact, the billboard above them began sparking angrily; lights exploding until only one was left. With Lois' attention diverted, Oliver made his escape, leaping off the building to a lower landing and finding his way to the bike he had parked below. Taking off down the road, he turned onto a side street but was forced to stop mid-way when none other than Clark Kent stood in his way.

"Oliver Queen… You owe me one."

Kicking the stand down on his bike, Oliver sat back and drew his helmet off. Surprised by what he knew and how he'd helped, Oliver stared wide-eyed at him. "That was you on the roof?"

Clark nodded.

He shook his head. "Why'd you let me get away?"

"I'm not sure…" He frowned. "Maybe it's because I know there was some good deed underneath all this... And maybe because I know how important certain secrets are."

He nodded slightly, eyes darting to the side. Finally, he asked. "How'd you figure it out?"

"I got a text message, said to drop by SafeTex facility, see for myself…" He crossed his arms over his chest. "The things Milo was saying, they all made sense. Chloe Sullivan knew it was Green Arrow, meaning she trusted him." He shook his head. "I did some digging though; the only person she's ever been close to… is  _you_. So then I asked myself, who could afford to buy untraceable titanium-based arrows… Who has an in to every one of these banquets and would know all of the people on that SafeTex client list…?" He frowned. "You were the only one who fit the profile… The only one she would've trusted and never sold out for a story."

"Looks like you might just have a little reporter in you, Clark..." His eyes narrowed, jaw ticking. "Look, she pointed you in this direction for one reason only… To open your eyes."

He sighed to himself, glancing away. "If this is about Lionel…"

He shrugged. "Not just him. Look, Kent, things aren't always what they seem…"

Clark pursed his lips. "You mean like how you and your girlfriend seemed like socialites in the daylight but at night you run around stealing from others?"

Oliver lifted his chin stubbornly. "We only steal what was already stolen… And we don't hurt anybody while we do it. Maybe a few people get knocked out or their egos take a bruising, but they all walk away alive…" His brows arched. "You think the people that first stole those things worried about anything other than money? You think the people that  _bought_ them cared if it cost somebody else's life?" He shook his head. "Take what you want from the situation, let the world know who I am… but take a good hard look before you make any judgment calls." Sitting back on his bike, he lifted his helmet. "Now if you don't mind, I'm still smarting from when you tossed me into a glass case… I'm going home to sleep it off."

"Outing you isn't my business… But the necklace you stole from my mom  _is_ … Like I said, you  _owe_ me… and returning what you stole from Lionel will make us even." With that, he turned and walked off into the night.

Sighing, Oliver frowned after him.

* * *

Sitting in the Metro Station Café, enjoying a hot cup of coffee, Chloe shook her at the two papers in front of her. "Unbelievable… On the one hand, we've got your good deeds being toted by the DP…  _Seven stolen artifacts were anonymously returned to the Met, the Tate, and the Louvre._  And at the Inquisitor, Lois is crying kidnapper!" She laughed to herself.

"Not that I don't appreciate Lois' career, but… Is it too much to ask that she drop the Bandit part?"

"Every other paper has, but she's holding strong…" She frowned, leaning in to tell him, "And you should know, despite your knight-in-shining-armor save-the-girl act last night, she's still out for blood. As far as she's concerned, Green Arrow is a threat to Metropolis, and she's not gonna stop until she finds out who he is." Her brows hiked for emphasis. "Trust me…"

"I wasn't the only one playing hero… You're getting better with that bow; we might just have to change your name to  _White Arrow_."

She snorted. "Thanks, but this was a one-time deal… I'm happier with hand-to-hand combat rather than the shoot 'em up, drop from the sky effect."

He grinned. "Doesn't mean you're not good at it… Which reminds me, what did you do SafeTex after I left?"

She smirked. "Every single record they had on file is deleted; the company was completely tech reliant. I shut every single inch of them down and it'll cost  _millions_ just to start from scratch." She shook her head. "Nobody hurts my family."

Oliver nodded. He couldn't argue with her; knowing that Lois had become the unwitting target in their high-stakes heroics had worried him. Seeing her dunked in that tank of water, a man ready to put a bullet between her eyes, he knew then that everybody had a dark side. For once, he wanted his arrow to strike lethally. But it wouldn't solve the problem and they wouldn't sink to the same lows as Milo and his goons. Maybe they didn't follow the same rules as everybody else, but that didn't mean they weren't without boundaries. And murder was a big one of them.

Sitting back in her seat, she said, "So you never told me how it went with Clark stealing-is-bad Kent the other night…" She cocked a brow.

"He put the pieces together a lot quicker than I expected," he mused. "He knows who I am but he says as long as the necklace gets returned, it's not his business." His brows furrowed. Lips pursed, he asked, "What do y _ou_  want to do?"

Thoughtful, Chloe sat back in her chair. "You know… I've always wanted to visit the Meteor Capital of the World."

Oliver slowly grinned.

* * *

Later that night, Clark Kent arrived back to his barn to find none other than Oliver Queen sitting with his feet up on his desk, holding a very old Daily Planet newspaper Clark had hunted down, the headline reading  _Queen Industries CEO and Wife Dead At Sea_. Looking up, Oliver said, "I didn't realize I was such a fascinating subject." Closing the paper, he held it up and nodded. "You've been reading up on me…" Motioning to the other papers littering the desktop, he said, "And it seems you're following in your mom's footsteps." He held up three papers, all of then with one of Chloe's headlining pieces. "You a fan yet? She has a habit of gripping you from the first word… Hey, maybe you and Martha could start a fan club."

Clark frowned.

"Be nice," Chloe said lightly, appearing next to him. She cocked her at Clark. "We didn't snoop as much as we might've liked… Only what was out in the open," she promised.

He looked around the room as if to see just what it was they might've gotten their hands on.

"Oliver tells me you figured him out all on your own…" Chloe's eyes narrowed. "He also says you have some pretty interesting powers."

Clark's jaw ticked. "He seems to be saying a lot."

"We tell each other everything…" She shrugged. "I guess it helps to have that one confidante when you're leading a double life." Her brow rose. "I wonder if you missed that class in Heroes 101."

"I'm no hero…" Teeth clenched, he sighed. "I'm just a guy who's there at the right time… And I'm not so sure you two should be taking up the mantle either."

Oliver cocked his head. "You read a few papers, you hear a few stories, and you think you've got us all figured out…" He smirked to himself. "You've got a long road ahead of you still."

Fed up, Clark wondered, "Is there any specific reason you dropped by?" He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Chloe lifted a cloth bag from her purse, turned it over and let the diamond necklace slide into Oliver's open palm. He walked it over to Clark, musing, "Well, you seem to have all the answers. So I guess it's a good thing I've decided to put this into safer hands..." He dropped it in Clark's outstretched fingers and as Chloe reached his side, put his hand to the small of her back, walking them toward the stairs. "For the record," he called back, "Lionel bought that off a notorious Bosnian warlord, used it to launder Luthercorp money."

Clark watched after them, asking uncertainly, "So why give it to me?"

Oliver half-smiled. "Well, you seem to have a crystal-clear idea of what's right and what's wrong...  _You_  decide who it belongs to."

Clark looked rather sheepish as he glanced down at the necklace and then back up to the couple. "It's not as clear as it used to be…" He took a few steps toward them and asked point-blank, "You really think it's right to  _steal_ , as long as it goes to a good cause?"

Oliver and Chloe exchanged a look, their lips tilting as if there was no question there, just understanding.

Oliver looked up Clark before telling him firmly, "That the end justifies the means? Absolutely, yes."

He shook his head. "I'll never feel that way."

Chloe smiled softly. "Because you hear the word ' _steal'_ and something in your head brings you back to childhood… Where your mother told you it was wrong and like a good little boy, you didn't question her." She shook her head. "We're not talking about stealing for the sake of stealing, Clark… There are facts here that you either aren't seeing or are all too comfortable overlooking…" She sighed, taking a step toward him and staring up at him searchingly. "Would you steal a loaf of bread to feed a starving family?"

"That's not the same," he argued.

"Answer the question."

"No… Yes…" He frowned. "I don't know. There are… There are other ways, there  _has_ to be."

"The days when the police figured out your diabolical scheme before anybody got hurt are over… if they ever even existed…" She shook her head. "What we do, what you're so quick to judge as wrong, is take from those who've already taken, and give to those who rightly deserve it… Those artifacts were better off somewhere they could be appreciated, rather than around some corrupt politician's date's neck…" She rolled her eyes. "We returned it to its rightful place and took nothing for it… Can you really tell me that's wrong?"

Clark looked away, his brows furrowed. "You don't have to explain yourselves to me… And with what you know, you didn't even have to return the necklace… So why are you really here?"

Oliver half-smiled, walking back into the room. "Clark, you have abilities…" He shook his head. "I couldn't even  _dream_  of… And I admire that you use them to save the people you're close to…"

Clark nodded. "But?"

He and Chloe exchanged another of their looks, as if a whole conversation was shared in one glance before Oliver returned his eyes to Clark. "But there's a whole  _world_ of people out there, Clark. They  _need_  us. With your  _potential_... you can't wait for them to come to you..."

Clark's eyes fell thoughtfully.

"When you're ready to do something about that..." He nodded. "You let us know."

Leaving him to consider their offer, Oliver led Chloe out of the barn and to the car waiting outside.

"You think he'll go for it?" she asked, hooking her arm with his.

"I think he'll think it to death…" He half-smiled, opening her door for her before circling to the driver's side.

Glancing back at the barn, where Clark stood watching them from the lit up window, she frowned. "Some of us just don't see our calling right away…"

Oliver stared at her over the car, his hands clasped atop the roof. "The guys took a little prodding," he reminded with a half-grin.

She cocked a brow at him, snorting under her breath. "Somehow, I don't think Clark Kent will be forced into action any faster than he wants."

He shrugged. "We'll just have to see how it all plays out then."

She smiled. "For the record… I don't think you need powers to be a hero, Ollie. You fill the quota better than anyone I know."

"Looked in a mirror lately?" he teased back.

She rolled her eyes lightly. "Let's go home, Arrow."

"I aim to please."

Climbing into the car, they drove off back toward Metropolis, leaving Clark Kent to ponder the attributes of a hero and wonder just where he fit in the grand scheme.


	28. XXVII. Of Reunions and Bald Billionaires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler(s): 6x05 - Reunion

 

**XXVII.** _Of Reunions and Bald Billionaires_

**_Excelsior_ ** **_Academy_ ** _  
October 26, 1996._

Remorse is something that comes and goes now. It's a feeling that bubbles below the surface of his skin; that reaches for his heart but recoils when it pumps harder, when it bangs against his ribs in a bid to feel something more than sadness or loss or loneliness. These frustrations manifest in ways he'll later regret, but in these moments all he feels is the need to tear somebody else down, to bring them to his level of anger.

When he sees Lex and Duncan discussing one of their comic books, his feet are moving faster than his head. He can't make out what Lex is saying, but he reaches over his shoulder and nabs the book from his hands quick and easy before glaring at the surprised duo, daring a wide-eyed Lex to do or say anything. When he simply stares, Oliver takes a step back, but his blood is still pumping. Part of him wants a fight, he wants to argue and snap and let it all out. But he doesn't, instead he lets it ruminate, every single day, until he takes it out on kids like Lex.

"Look who it is, boys..." He circles them, with best friends Alden and Geoffrey following. " _Weirdo Angel_ and his trusty sidekick, _Grease Spot_."

The boys laugh, uninhibited.

Scared but trying not to show it, Lex demands, "Give it back, Ollie."

There's a moment, a flash in his mind, of when Oliver was just a little boy; a boy who played hide and seek and carried a play bow everywhere. A boy who was friends with Lex Luthor and Jason Teague. Back when his parents were alive and happy, when things just weren't so complicated.

At the memory, he revolts. "That's Mr. Queen to you," His brows arch condescendingly, "little man."

Jaw clenching, blood pumping, Lex stares up at him as if he wants to fight.

And Oliver can see it, that caged anger inside him, waiting to attack. He _wants_ it to.

Duncan just wants away from it all; the peacekeeper. "It's okay, Lex…" he says to his friend encouragingly. "I'll just get another one."

"Yeah, Duncan will just get another one," Alden agrees mockingly. "Oh, wait, he _can't_ …" He grins.

Arms crossed over his chest, Geoffrey sneers, "Oh, yeah, that's right. His mommy doesn't have any money. That's why he's on _scholarship_."

All the while, Oliver smirks. He can't remember if it was he who encouraged the bullying, the attitude, or if Geoffrey and Alden had influenced it, or maybe it was just happenstance of their lives. Three sons of absent parents; at least his had a reason, he supposed. Death didn't get vacation days.

"Shut up, Geoffrey. Shut up, Alden," Lex snapped before turning his eyes back toward Oliver. "Give it back..." he demanded before swallowing thickly and adding, " _Mr. Queen_."

There's a moment of triumph that balloons in his chest; of feeling like somehow, in this instance, he's won. But he still hasn't gotten what he wants; he still hasn't relieved any of the anger inside. "Sure…" He licks his lips, hiding a smirk. "You know what? Let's make this…" He sneers, lifting the comic book up for them to see, "-a two-parter." He tears it in half, jaw ticking all the while as the disappointment and anger registers on Lex's face. And now he really has won.

"Don't!" he cries, lunging for it.

Alden intercepts him, shoving him back and away, hard enough that he tumbles to the ground, his ball cap falling off, revealing the smooth, hairless surface of his bald head.

Alden and Geoffrey grin, laughing.

Sneering down at him, Alden nods. "Nice haircut, cue ball."

Duncan hurries over to help his friend up.

"Come on." Oliver slaps his hand against Geoffrey's chest. "These girls aren't even worth it."

As he leaves, the others follow; he says no more to the two of them, instead righting his Excelsior jacket, glancing once at Lex and continuing on. Behind him, Alden gets in Lex's face, calling him a "Loser," before leaving him there, laughing with Geoffrey as they catch up to Oliver.

He doesn't look back, chooses not to care, and as the bell rings, he tells himself that this moment doesn't matter; it's just one of many that will be added to the pile and forgotten.

He's wrong.

* * *

_Present_

Oliver woke up groggy, his body stiff and a headache already pounding away at his temples. The ambrosial aroma of coffee rent the area, beckoning him to the kitchen. Kicking his blanket off, which had become tangled around his legs in the night, he sat up, arching his back and rolling his shoulders. His body felt like it'd been put through the ringer a few times; he needed a hot shower and a workout to get himself feeling back on his game.

"Hey, Sleepyhead," he heard, and turned to see Chloe standing in the doorway, a mug of coffee in each hand and his green robe draped across her, open in the front. Sometimes, in moments like these, his mind went places he usually had to tell it not to. Place that involved _what if…_ Her hair was slightly mussed; blonde waves that hadn't yet been brushed and tangled around her soft face. Having worn a long t-shirt to bed, her long legs drew the eye and there was a voice in his head, his own, that wondered how soft they'd be as he ran his hands across them. Mouth suddenly dry, he shook his head slightly.

Half-smiling, she stepped into the room, brought him his coffee and then tilted her head wonderingly. "You all right? You look like you had a rough sleep."

He took his drink gratefully and downed half of it in hopes it'd wake him up and bring his senses back. "Yeah," he rasped, tongue now raw and burning from the scalding coffee. Not his brightest idea, he'd admit. "Guess I'm not too thrilled to be going back to school…" he frowned. "Any chance we could play hookie and find something more interesting to do?"

She raised a brow, lips firming, and he knew she wasn't about to let him get out of it. "Come on, you can show me your old school, reminisce about old times…" She stared up at him searchingly. "Is this about Duncan?"

His body stiffened, eyes falling toward the floor darkly.

She reached for his shoulder, rubbing it in circles. "You've gotta face this sometime… It's been _ten_ years… You can't _live_ like this, Ollie."

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Couldn't I just sacrifice myself on an altar somewhere and get it over with?"

She scoffed. "I take it you took _Drama_ at Excelsior."

His lips tweaked with amusement.

She grinned, bumping his shoulder with hers. "Look, we'll go for a little while, we'll see some of your old friends, I'll get a few embarrassing stories out of it to tell at Christmas and if you still feel like getting out of there, we will… But don't let who you were or what you did get in the way of who you are now…" She stared up at him sincerely. "You're not that boy anymore, Oliver. And maybe you need to prove that to yourself…" Standing up, she hugged her robe closed, a sight he was sore to see go. "I'm going to take a shower, get ready, and then you and I need to head out… Maybe the drive will settle your nerves a bit."

As she was leaving, he muttered, "Not likely."

* * *

So her bright idea to play music from the nineties was actually kind of awesome.

Sitting next to him in his black corvette, the convertible roof put down, Chloe was signing at the top of her lungs, " _Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want_ …" She shoved his shoulder, but he wouldn't sing the next lyric and she just laughed. " _I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha!_ " Sitting back in her seat, she kept singing, " _If you want my future forget my past, If you wanna get with me better make it fast, Now don't go wasting my precious time, Get your act together we could be just fine._ " Turning once more, she sang, " _I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want_ …"

Rolling his eyes, he said in a monotone rather than singing, " _So tell me what you want, what you really really want_ …"

She sang the rest without bugging him, but giggled through the fake-rapping part, clapping all the while.

Finally, when she sat back, sighing to herself, he told her, "I wasn't a Spice Girls fan and I _definitely_ wasn't singing that in my dorm room."

She snorted. "Backstreet Boys then? Ace of Base? Boyzone?"

He rolled his eyes. "Try Green Day or Nirvana… Red Hot Chili Peppers, Foo Fighers, Rage Against the Machine…"

"Ahh, teenage rebellion… Okay…" Searching through her mix CD's, she put another one in and turned up the volume. " _Cut my life into pieces, This is my last resort. Suffocation, No breathing, Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding_ …" she chose to sing loud and tried her best to look comically angry as she did.

Biting his lip, he shook his head at her. "You're crazy."

"I could put Britney on," she suggested, smirking.

"Don't make me pull over," he argued, lifting his brows for emphasis.

Laughing, she reached for the dial and pushed it a few times, finally settling on a slower song. For awhile, she just hummed to the tune he recognized as an old No Doubt hit.

Her foot tapped along with it as she closed her eyes and just swayed. And then her eyes were on him, finally singing along, " _Our memories, Well, they can be inviting, But some are altogether, Mighty frightening_ …"

"Okay, put Britney on," he scoffed, knowing what she was getting at.

She laughed lightly. "I didn't download any of her stuff… Besides, she came out after you graduated anyway. But, I do have…" She hit the button a couple times and when the Macarena filtered out, he laughed thickly, turning to see her rocking out in the passenger seat. Drivers moving past glanced at her funny but she couldn't care less, instead lifting her hands and doing the dance as best she could while sitting.

Just as she'd planned, she effectively gotten his mind off the coming reunion and the bad memories it brought with it.

* * *

Arriving at Excelsior, Oliver felt a chill run down his spine. He couldn't say the entire experience was awful, that all he had were regrets, but it was those moments that stuck with him. There were people running to and fro, still setting everything up, from outside decorations to the banquet dinner inside. Circling the car, Oliver reached for Chloe's hand and smiled. "You wanted me to reminisce, right? Let's see if we can't get inside and take a look around…"

She arched a brow. "Pretty sure they asked us to stay in the designated area."

He shrugged. "Fine print…" He tugged her along, admiring the silk of her red dress as it hugged her curves. "Trying to nab a husband on my watch, Sunshine?" he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Please… As if I want some stuffy boarding school graduate." Laughing, she leaned into his side. "Come on, fill me in on the awkward adolescent years."

Grinning, he walked her around the building, bypassing the school staff and the caterers and found an unlocked door to the main school building. "Most of the students should be in class right about now…" he mused, bringing her down a long corridor. "Okay, take your pick… We've got door rooms, trophy case, milestones and memories…" He twirled her around and then waved his arm for her to make her choice.

"Let's start with the trophy case," she said, walking toward the glass cabinet holding various sized tributes to the many alumni of Excelsior.

As she paused in front of it, eyes wandering plaques, oversized trophies, ribbons and pictures, she searched out his name and grinned as she found a bronzed arrow, the nameplate below it reading, **All State Championships, 1996, Captain Oliver Queen**. "Captain," she said aloud. "Why am I not surprised?"

His hands squeezed her shoulders affectionately. "This one _might_ surprise you…" He motioned toward the ivory chess piece on the left-hand side.

"Was Chess _ever_ cool?" she teased.

He laughed lightly. "The guys dared me… And I, of course, had to be the very best at everything I did." He lifted a shoulder. "Uncool or not."

He pointed himself out in the team pictures; a young, blonde, arrogant Oliver smirking at the camera from his seat next to a handful of others in the Archery Club and a few not-so-appreciative teammates in the Chess Club. He was also sitting alongside the Lacrosse Team, Language Club, Yearbook, and, like she'd expected, Drama. "Was there anything you _didn't_ join?"

"Matheletes…" He frowned. "Despite my job, I just didn't care for numbers so much."

Shaking her head, she hooked her arm with his once more. "Okay, next on the list…"

He started walking her down the hall once more. "Well, _that_ was my locker…" He motioned to #406 and brought her over. "If it's got the same combo… They never changed these things…" Reaching down, he flipped it around and within a couple seconds, had it open.

"Oliver!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Some sixteen year old kid owns it now."

"Yeah, and he takes much better care of it, too," he muttered. "Look, he alphabetizes his books… Who _does_ that? Biology, Calculus, History, Spanish… I bet he even color-codes—" He nodded. "He does."

She scoffed. "Will you get outta there!" Trying to hide her amusement, she reached over to close the door.

Grinning, he simply shrugged. "All right, let's go check out my old dorm… On the way, if you're lucky, I'll show you the tree under I undid my first bra."

"Ahh, memories," she teased.

As they walked through the school toward the dormitories, he paused to point out the classroom in which a young female teacher hit on him, the wall in which he wrote _OQ was here '96,_ the severely uncomfortable wooden chairs he had to sit in while waiting to speak to the principal about some mishap or another, and the graduation picture from his final year of him and all his classmates. When they quietly crept into the dormitory, Oliver felt like a teenager again, sneaking his girlfriend up to his room to make out.

"I know what you're thinking, Queen, and I'm not that kind of girl," Chloe murmured, laughing.

Finding the third floor, he listened for any students and brought her down to room #306B, picking the lock to let them in.

"Please tell me you aren't going to go through these kids things, too." She arched a brow at him before looking around the room. "Pretty big, I guess. Bigger than my room back home, but then I didn't have to share with anyone."

He nodded, hands tucked in his pockets. "Kid I was roomed with was pretty quiet, really big on his studies. Me, Alden and Geoff didn't hang around here much though, so it worked out." He looked around the room rather fondly. "I wonder…" He crossed to the closet, pulled the door open that still stuck a little each time, and smoothed his hand down the side, fingers searching out the familiar grooves. He grinned slowly. "Still here…"

"What is?" she wondered, walking over.

"Me and the guys used to carve our height into the doorway," he said, chuckling to himself. "We seemed to think if we hit the six foot mark, college girls would give us the time of day."

"You exceeded that," she said wryly, before leaning in to check just when he'd hit it. She followed the numbers as they rose, an O, G and A marking each boy. "Looks like Alden quit growing at 5'10, but Geoffrey made it… He was 6'2 by graduation… And _you_ …" She smiled. "Ahead of your time. 6'3 by graduation, and a solid six feet by grade eleven…" Her brow lifted wonderingly. "Did it work?"

"Yes," he said, grinning. "But I think it had more to do with the Porsche than the extra few inches."

She pursed her lips. "I'm sure they saw more than the car."

"I _was_ a catch," he joked.

The noise outside seemed to be getting louder and Oliver walked to look out the window, seeing many alumni's filling up the cobblestone courtyard. "We'll stop at the make-out tree and then head in." He grinned back at her, wiggling his brows suggestively.

"Yeah, well, sucks to be you, 'cause I'm not wearing a bra under this dress."

Chuckling, he wrapped an arm around her waist and directed her out the door. "Would've saved me a lot of time in high school if all girls were as loose as you."

Chloe slapped his chest playfully.

* * *

Amidst the crowd of chatting people, Lex Luthor stared up at the statue staring regally from atop Excelsior Academy, his arm raised, sword in hand. Lana approached him, smiling. "We had a _stuffed crow_ at Smallville High." She tilted her head. "Different worlds, huh?"

"In this case," he said, turning away from the sight to face her, "I prefer yours." Taking her hand, they began walking, smiling to each other.

"If that's how you feel, why come to this thing?" she wondered.

"Well Lana, some of the deepest pockets in the country went to Excelsior. These alumni socials are good for business."

"Well, then let's be social so we can get the hell out of here," she told him, grinning.

He smiled.

"Can't say she has a bad idea there," called a voice.

They turned to see Alden and Geoffrey approaching, and Lex's face shuddered closed, eyes narrowing carefully.

"I've generally found that to be true," Lex replied slowly.

"Lex, it's been awhile," Geoffrey said, smiling.

Alden raised his glass in hello to Lana. "And yet not long enough," he muttered, knocking back his drink and taking another from a passing tray.

Lex glanced to his left. "Geoffrey, Alden, this is Lana Lang…"

"Hi," she greeted, shaking Geoffrey's hand and then retracting hers as Alden concentrated on his near empty glass.

"How's business?" Lex wondered.

Alden scoffed slightly. "Not as good as you, but, hey." He smirked, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Hey, have you guys seen Oliver?" Geoffrey said, glancing once at Alden with a look that clearly told him to behave better.

"Oliver's here?" Lex asked, frowning.

"Yeah, he said to meet him out front, but…" He waved his hand to show the thick crowd. "Kind of hard to find familiar faces now that they're all grown up."

"His is plastered all over Gossip America, so it's not like we won't recognize him…" Alden mused. "Even if he sucks at visiting."

"He's been busy…" Geoffrey shrugged understandingly. "We've all been."

"Yeah, vacationing in Borneo with the wife is at the top of my to-do list," he scoffed.

"He wasn't _vacationing_ … He has business there."

"Wife?" Lex asked, brows furrowed. "I didn't know Oliver married."

Geoffrey half-smiled. "Not on paper, but..."

"Close enough… Chloe's got him tied around her little finger. They're probably shacking up under the make-out tree _right now_ … Lucky bastard." As he lifted his glass once more, frowning as he realized it was empty, a hand appeared and took it away.

"And somebody thought an open bar was smart," Chloe scoffed, placing his glass on a passing tray. "How many me's do you see, Alden?" she wondered, shaking her head.

"Don't all of you talk at the same time," he joked.

Smiling, she reached up and kissed his cheek. "I brought some of your favorite coffee… I'm having someone brew it up, all right?" She lifted her brows meaningfully at him.

"You're too good to me…" He glanced at Oliver. "You lucked out, Oliver… She still doesn't know she can do better."

Oliver grinned. "I'm working on keeping it that way. Don't ruin it for me."

Chloe rolled her eyes and then focused on Geoffrey. "Hey you," she said, reaching over to hug him, kissing his cheek as well. "How's Gotham treating you?"

"Still as dark and dangerous as ever," he returned, shrugging.

"We'll have to visit." She hugged an arm around Oliver and then noticed the extra company. "Lex Luthor."

He gave a short nod in reply. "The aforementioned Chloe, I would take it…"

She stared at him a long, hard second and then looked to his left. "And you must be Lana… I'd suggest we give the boys a moment to assert their manliness but witnesses are probably needed."

Oliver grinned. "I think we all turned out okay, no need to bring out the rulers… Right?"

"I can only speak for myself," Lex drawled, smiling briefly at Lana.

Catching on to his discomfort and the wave of tension in the air, Lana looked between them all. "And you guys were all… _friends?_ "

Lex gave a slight nod. "Something like that."

Oliver's jaw ticked, his grip on Chloe's waist tightening.

"Man, after 10 years…" Geoffrey looked awkwardly between them all. "Gang's all here."

Alden cocked a brow, smiling to himself, and grabbed another drink off a passing tray. "Except for Duncan."

Lex turned to look at him darkly.

"Where's that guy with your coffee?" Chloe muttered, looking around with her brows furrowed.

Confused, Lana looked up to Lex, wondering, "Who's Duncan?"

Oliver turned to his old friend seriously. "Know what? You really need to lay off, huh?" He took the drink from his hand.

Staring a little slack-jawed, swaying a bit on his feet, Alden said, "What? Like you weren't all thinking about—"

"Alden," Oliver snapped sternly.

As the crowd quieted, staring at him, he looked away. "Yeah, whatever." Stumbling forward, he smirked. "Good to see you, Lex…" He turned, looking Lana up and down. "You did all right for yourself." Walking away, he grabbed yet another drink and left them all behind.

Brow furrowed, Lex stared down at the ground in thought.

"Well, that's the last time we take _him_ anywhere," Chloe said, half-smiling awkwardly.

Behind them, on the stairway platform overlooking the crowd, Alden smirked to himself. "Duncan, if you were here…" He waved his sloshing glass. "You'd _still_ be a loser."

Above him, a heavy chunk of the building fell, crashing just to the right of his feet. Startled, he looked down at the mess of concrete that could've meant his death before raising his head to look above where the statue still sat firmly, a gasping crowd staring on with him.

Chloe, Oliver and Geoffrey ran over, worried. Geoffrey reached him first, touching his arm reassuringly before looking down at the shattered piece of concrete. Standing just behind him, Oliver held a hand to Chloe's stomach, keeping her back just in case. "You all right?" he asked Alden.

"Just missed me," he said, his eyes wide. Laughing incredulously, he said. "Must be my lucky day."

The sword from above suddenly twisted from its place, bounced off the siding and arched downwards, cutting through the air before slicing straight through Alden's chest cavity and throwing him to the ground where he cried out in pain before lying still and dead.

"Oh my—" Chloe grabbed Oliver's arm and drew him back, but even as he hugged her to his chest, covering her eyes from the sight, he couldn't help but stare down in shock. The crowd pushed in close, despite the possibility of more falling, enraptured by the dead man lying impaled before them. Not far from them, Lex stared on with a blood-spattered face.

* * *

 _Excelsior_ _Academy_ _, 1996_

This was crazy. _They_ were crazy. Stealing the mid-term answers had to be one of the best and _worst_ ideas they'd ever had. While everybody was asleep in bed, Oliver, Alden and Geoffrey had made a plan. Why study when they could just cheat? They already knew where the tests were being kept; it was just a matter of getting to them.

"You realize if they catch us, we're toast, right?" Geoffrey sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Alden slapped his chest with the back of his hand. "So we don't get caught."

"Right, and saying it's gonna make it happen." He rolled his eyes.

"Look, we've got a plan," Oliver reminded. "One of us stands as lookout, the other two go in and search. We just have to get the timing right and things will fall into place."

Geoffrey wasn't so sure. "And if we _do_ get caught?"

He smirked. "Sleepwalking."

While they all knew it wouldn't work, it effectively broke the tension, allowing them to laugh.

Minutes later, while Alden stood as lookout at the door, Oliver and Geoffrey searched filing cabinet after filing cabinet until they finally came up with what they were looking for. Staring down at the listed answers, Oliver felt adrenaline, relief, and that little bit of fear coursing through his veins.

"Hurry!" Alden called into them.

Slapping the answer sheets against Geoffrey's shoulder, they left the room quickly, grinning all the while. As they stepped out into the hallways, Alden demanded, "Did you get it?"

Triumphantly showing it to him, Oliver grinningly said, "I got it! Let's go."

Keeping pace with him, Alden shook his head. "Man, this is too cool…" He looked around and whisper-cheered, "Sweet, nobody saw us."

Geoffrey worriedly looked around as hurried behind them, but saw no one in the shadows.

Unbeknownst to them, Lex Luthor and Duncan Allenmeyer had seen them and it would be the beginning of the end.

* * *

_Present_

Night had fallen when Oliver, Chloe and Geoffrey left the emergency room. An ambulance drove past, sirens wailing, as they stepped off the curb.

Oliver was lost in thought, his brows furrowed, eyes set on the ground. Chloe looked worriedly from him to Geoffrey.

"Seeing somebody you laughed with, shared so many good times together," Geoffrey inhaled thickly. "Seeing him laid out on the table like that..." He turned back to look at them, frowning.

Her face fell, sighing. She hugged Oliver's suit jacket around her to keep out the cold and offered, "It feels inadequate, but I'm really sorry, Geoff. I know you guys were still close…"

He nodded jerkily.

"Y'know, Alden called me a month ago," Oliver said, looking away, jaw twitching. "He said he wanted to go out for a drink, and I, uh…" He scoffed at himself. "I told him I was busy. I said I'd catch up with him later."

Geoffrey nodded.

"Way I see it, we can't change this, so… We take it as what is it… All the more reason to live for today." He nodded firmly before reaching out to Oliver hopefully, squeezing his shoulder. "Keep in touch with old friends?"

Oliver nodded. "Yeah… Like Chloe was saying, we should come visit you in Gotham, y'know? Just… Look, we can both clear our schedules and catch up."

"Yeah… I'll have my people call your people."

Chloe shook her head. "Never mind leaving it with secretaries. You've got my number, we'll get together soon."

Geoffrey half-smiled. "Despite everything, it was good seeing you guys…" He accepted a hug from Chloe and then shook Oliver's hand. "Keep an eye on her… I plan to woo her away from your side as soon as I get the chance."

He cocked his head, grinning lightly to himself. "It'll be interesting to see you try."

Chuckling under his breath, Geoffrey nodded goodbye, winking once at Chloe before he walked off toward his limousine. The driver tossed his smoke behind him on the ground as he spotted Geoffrey and immediately moved over to open the door for him. Unbeknownst to them, a leak in the gas tank had it spilling, creeping slowly toward the lit cigarette.

Waving one last time to him, Oliver and Chloe began walking back toward their car.

"Maybe we _should've_ played hookie," she murmured, chewing her lip.

He hugged her close to his side and shook his head. "No, I think finding out about this in the papers would've been even worse…"

Behind them, the gas reached the cigarette and fire ate it up, reaching inside the limousine and sending it rocketing off the pavement in an explosive array of flames. The sheer force toppled Oliver and Chloe, who fell forward against the street, turning over in shock to stare at the skeleton of the car, fire roaring all around from the inside out, the likelihood of its passengers living very small indeed.

Wide-eyed, Oliver stared, his chest heaving. Suddenly, the accident earlier didn't look so much like a fluke.

* * *

After dealing with _more_ police and answering what seemed like an endless barrage of questions, Chloe finally convinced them that Oliver needed to get home, get some rest, and try and put the whole tragic event behind him. The ride home was nothing like it had been that morning; there was no music or dancing or reminiscing. It was dead silence and Chloe could _feel_ the tension rolling off of him in waves. One death, she might've been able to talk him through, but two within as many hours… She was still shocked herself. She hadn't known Alden or Geoffrey nearly as well as Oliver had, but over the years they'd spoken and shared meals and she'd gotten more than one good story out of them about her best friend's infamous Excelsior years, where rebellion ran deep.

He drove now with stoic reserve; his expression a mask she'd never had to really deal with. He was always open with her, honest, and so she never had to question what he was thinking or what he was going through. There were words she could say, she knew, but they all seemed so hollow. So instead, she reached for and took his hand. She held it tight even as it lay limp in her own. She traced his knuckles with her thumb, traced the various scars from arrows and life in general, until eventually he gave just a little, and he knotted his fingers with her own. She wouldn't push, wouldn't force, but she also wouldn't let him drown in a pit of despair. He had enough of that in his lifetime.

When they returned to Metropolis, the elevator finally reaching the penthouse, they each left for their separate rooms to dress for bed. Wearing his green robe, Chloe paused in the kitchen to warm some milk for him, rather than the hard liquor he might've preferred, and joined him in his bedroom. Dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, he lay on his back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, the loss weighing heavy on his expression alone. Placing the glass on the bedside table, she sat next to him, smoothed her hand across his face and felt the warm tear tracks that slid from his eyes down into his hair. His hand covered hers, squeezed, and his eyes fell closed, damp lashes meeting his cheeks, lids pushing out a few more salty beads of remorse.

"Oh Ollie…" she murmured.

His face screwed up then, chin quaking, and a choked sob rent the room. He pulled her in then, dragged her on top of him and held tight to her small frame. She wrapped her arms around him close, squeezed his bare shoulders, and rubbed her hands in soothing circles. He cried silently into her hair, his arms wrapped around her like bands of unrelenting steel, but she didn't mind. She tried to give him what physical comfort she could, ready to lay with him as long as it would take. His milk would go untended; leaving a ring on the table, ignored. Oliver wouldn't move, wouldn't say a word, he would simply hold her, eventually falling asleep with her still there, tucked into his body. And when his arms slackened and she was sure he had fallen asleep, she reached for the blanket, drew it up and tucked them in. Through two nightmares, she stayed at his side, soothing him back to sleep as he struggled with the recesses of his mind, with regrets that were showing. Falling into a fitful sleep of her own, she held him close and hoped desperately that this wouldn't break him too much.

* * *

The following morning, Chloe stood in the foyer office like a sentinel.

She circled the desk, readjusting her Bluetooth as she and Victor chatted. "No, I'm putting missions on hold for a little while…"

"Oliver was okay with that?" he said, skeptically.

She half-smiled. "Let's just say I didn't ask his opinion."

He didn't question her decision, instead wondering, "He's all right?"

"He's… Angry, mostly. At himself… At circumstances… At things he can't change." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "When things calm down, I wanna bring the team in, cheer him up."

"Sounds good. Bart's skipping around, doing his thing, but he said to give him a ring when he was needed. AC's spent most of his time at the harbor, hanging with the local ocean-life."

"And you?" Her brow puckered. "We haven't had much time to catch up lately."

"I'm taking care of day-to-day work… Queen Industries has been getting a lot of my attention lately, and y'know, I'm enjoying it."

She grinned. "Yeah, well, they're lucky to have you… I know the Communications department was having some trouble with their international servers… Did you get a chance to look at it?"

"I did. It was an easy fix, something minor; it happens. Right now, I'm looking at the weapons department. You think Oliver would mind if I put a few more people on in there? They're being run ragged."

"Fax me over the charts and the employee lists and I'll see what I can do," she offered.

"All right, good." He sighed to himself. "How are things outside of work? I know you and Ollie have been hitting the social scene lately, getting a line on Luthor and a few other moneybags…"

"Did you know caviar is _not_ one of their main food groups?" she mused. "Myth busted."

He chuckled warmly. "You know AC would've never let that one go, right?"

"Yes," She half-rolled her eyes in light amusement, "I've been warned I should just remove fish and all related foods from my menu altogether…"

"Good idea… Not one Bart's taking to heart, but the kid'll do anything to get under AC's skin, so…"

There was a noise in the background then and Victor sighed. "I'm sorry, Chlo, I gotta go. We've got another glitch to take care of… Keep me updated though, and let Oliver know we're with him in spirit."

"Okay. Thanks, Vic."

As they hung up, Chloe heard the elevator reach the top floor. Brows furrowed, she reached over for the phone and dialed out to Oliver's assistant. "Sarah, I thought I cancelled all of today's meetings."

"You did, Miss. Sullivan. We've been receiving calls all day in regards to Mr. Queen's response to the, um, deaths of his friends but I've been fielding them." She paused. "Is there a problem? Should I call security?"

"Just gimme a second…" Putting her on hold, she pulled up the elevator feed to find Clark Kent staring back at her and frowned. Pushing the hold button, she returned to Sarah. "It's all right. It's a friend. And Sarah, you can take the rest of the day off, all right? Let the machine get the rest of the calls and pack it in early."

"Thank you, Miss. Sullivan," she said, relief evident. "And… Please, give my condolences to Mr. Queen."

"I will… Have a good weekend."

"You too."

After they hung up, Chloe pressed the button to release the lock on the elevator and walked over to meet their visitor. She imagined if Clark had wanted, and with the powers she was aware of, he could've made his way into the tower without her knowledge and wouldn't have to bother with pleasantries or knocking, but she appreciated the effort. As the steel door opened, she stared rather surprised at the man; she didn't imagine he knew anything about Alden or Geoffrey, so she was a little confused regarding the visit. They'd told him to come by in regards to their team offer, of course, but he didn't strike her as the type to make up his mind very quick and it had only been a week since the suggestion was put out there.

"Clark," Chloe greeted. She glanced back, thinking of Oliver, and frowned. "Look, now's really not a good time..."

"I need to talk to Oliver… or you." He frowned. "Whoever handles the satellites..."

Her brows furrowed. "Much as I'd like to help, Oliver's not up for visitors."

Frowning, he walked out of the elevator. "This is _important_."

Hands on her hips, she turned toward him sternly. "I'm sure it is… to _you_. But right now, he's angry and grieving. So I really don't care if it's a matter of _national security_. You're not seeing—"

As air kicked up and he disappeared from sight, Chloe growled to herself, "Not. Cool."

Clark found Oliver in his practice room, firing arrows at a hole-mottled target. With lulling music playing in the background, Oliver raised his bow, aimed, closed his eyes and calmed himself before releasing the arrow and waiting for the subsequent _thwack_ of it hitting its designated spot. When it never came, his eyes shot open, only to find Clark Kent holding the arrow just short of the target.

"Clark," he said, not exactly thrilled to see the man. "Chloe's been doing a fair job of keeping people out; I'm surprised you got past her…" He half-smiled. "She can be a hellion when she wants to."

Playing aimlessly with the arrow, he lifted a shoulder. "At barely five feet, I think I could take her."

Oliver's mouth tilted in a smirk. "Maybe with your powers…" He arched a brow. "She packs a punch though… One very few see coming."

Clark walked down the stairs of the platform, carrying the arrow in his hands.

"It's okay," Oliver told him. "You know what? You can keep that arrow. I've got a new one." He reached for the box on his desk and flipped the lid open, drawing one of two arrows from their holders. "I was thinking about developing a boxing-glove arrow and then I thought, ' _Come up with something a little fancier_ …'" Placing it in its holder, he raised his bow, drew back on the string, checked his measurements, and then slid it just a few inches to the right before releasing it. As it slammed into its intended target, a blue light crackled out across the walls and everything in its path.

Clark looked around interestedly, his brows raised and then fell as he tried to understand what it meant.

"Contained Electromagnetic Pulse - knocks out everything electrical within an 8-foot radius," Oliver explained, lowering his bow to lean against his chest. "Cameras, laser systems, pacemakers." At his startled expression, he added, "That last one was a joke, Clark."

Clark simply stared. "I'm laughing on the inside."

He grinned. "Maybe we'll get lucky one day and it'll bubble to the surface…" He cocked a brow. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need to talk to you about Queen Industries, their satellite grid…" he said, walking toward him.

Oliver nodded shortly. "What about it?"

"There are…" He inhaled deeply. "Important images that I need to see…" His eyes darted away. "It's hard to explain and to be honest, I'd rather not."

Lips pursed, he nodded to himself. "Ever heard of _quid pro quo_ , Boyscout?" At Clark's droll face, he offered, "Tit for tat? Give and take? Back-scratching?" He blinked. "No… Okay, well, look… You're Han Solo, we get that, but… I work as a team and in my team, information is _shared_ not horded."

He frowned. "This information doesn't affect you or your team, Oliver."

Eyes narrowing, he stared at him a moment. "And how am I supposed to know that without first seeing the footage?"

"You'll have to trust me."

"Trust you…" His lips tweaked in a smile. "What d'you think, Sunshine? Should we trust him?" he called out a little louder.

Clark whirled as Chloe's voice answered, "Hm, he has _atrocious_ manners… It doesn't bode well." Brow raised at the farmboy, she crossed to stand next to Oliver, a united front. Head cocked, she surveyed him up and down. "Then again… His moral compass is so much more _precise_ than ours…"

Oliver half-grinned.

Clark sighed. "If you won't help, just say so… I'll find another way."

"Ah, but you won't," he replied rather smugly. "Since our satellites were the only ones working."

Clark's eyes narrowed. "Now, how'd you manage that?"

"It's a trade secret." He clucked his tongue. "Tell you what, I'll give the access codes if you do one small thing for me…"

Chloe looked up to him, lips pursed.

He laughed shortly. "What would that be?" Clark asked, rather expecting the worst.

"Help us figure out how Lex caused the accidental death of two of my friends."

Clark sobered. "You think Lex killed them?"

In a voice filled with foreboding, he replied, "I've known Lex a lot longer than you, Clark… I've seen who he _really_ is."

It was obvious then, by his expression alone, that Clark agreed.

* * *

After Clark left, Chloe turned around to face her friend. "What are you _doing?_ " she asked, point-blank.

"What? Like a little help won't come in handy?" he replied shortly, turning his back to her as he went through his arrows once more, checking each of the tips before making a choice. "We want Clark to learn the meaning of team, we have to show him one first."

"Oliver…" She crossed the room to him, reaching out for his arms and forcing him to look at her. "I know you're hurting and I know that things are really hard and confusing right now… But we have no evidence to suggest that Lex was behind this." She sighed. "The variables alone are just too much… How could he know Alden would be standing beneath the statue? How could he make it so that the sword would hit him just right?" She shook her head. "And Geoffrey's car was a gas leak… Lex would have to know the driver's smoking habits and _rely_ on them to set off the fire. A car bomb, I could see, but leaving it up to chance?" She shook her head.

"They did not die because of fluke accidents," he replied firmly, staring into her eyes. "I need you to trust me on this."

She sighed, her eyes falling. "I do. I _always_ trust you. But Oliver… The last 24 hours have been _traumatic,_ to say the least. And now you're chasing after a very big enemy with a guy you _barely_ know. A guy who was once _best friends_ with Lex Luthor…" She stared at him searchingly. "I don't want to put stock in a person who's only helping us so he can help himself…"

"Clark Kent knows Lex… His mother is friends with Lionel… There's a chance he'll get the kind of information we need; information that proves Lex had a hand in this." His jaw ticked. "And maybe it's a test for Clark, too. Let's see where his loyalties lie."

Worried, her brow knotted. "You're sure you can handle this?"

He smirked at her, but there was little humor or amusement in it. "I've still got you… I can handle anything."

She wanted to believe that, but she wasn't so sure.

* * *

_Excelsior_ _Academy_ _, 1996_

After the fun wore off and their not-so-smooth execution of cheating came to light, Oliver had to give life props for managing to be so suckish. Yes, it was his fault and he should take responsibility and blah, blah, blah. But at the moment, all he really wanted to do was pummel Lex Luthor for his smug, knowing smirk.  _Let me handle it_ , he says.  _I'll get Duncan in on it and everything will be fine_. Except it wouldn't… Because Lex Luthor wanted to be  _friends_ in exchange for not telling the headmaster that Oliver, Alden and Geoffrey had gone looking for the mid-term's answer key and found it.

Playing nice was one thing, laying off a guy rather than tormenting him whenever that anger struck up in him could be handled, but  _friendship_ … He reserved that for people he liked, people he understood or admired. It wasn't for creepy guys like Lex Luthor, who always looked there was something darker, strange and unholy, lurking just behind his eyes. Duncan wasn't what Oliver would've called worth his time, but he wasn't as warped as Lex. So he was on the poor spectrum of the money scale, Oliver could careless. The only reason he attracted any attention, bullying or otherwise, was because he was hanging out with Lex, and Lex was weird.

Sitting on a balcony in the rain, calling out for somebody named  _Julian_  weird.

Grew no hair on his head and always wore a baseball cap that hid absolutely  _nothing_ weird.

Had his father take him out of school for unnamed psychological  _breakdowns_ weird.

The list went on.

And Oliver didn't want to understand him, not really. Half the time he wasn't even sure he understood himself. He put on a good show of it, always looking so in control and sure of himself. But at the end of the school year, he would return to a house full of servants, all of whom referred to him as  _Mr. Queen,_  and Oliver, or Ollie, or any facet of that teenage self would be considered unimportant. Because he was not a child; he was an heir. He was not a carefree kid; he was set to be the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. And yes he had friends and admirers and what Lex had not in looks, Oliver had in spades, but… Strip those things away and he was just a guy trying to make it through every-day life. Maybe the only thing he thought he might just have in common with Lex.

As long as Lex did what he said he would, convince Duncan to keep his mouth shut, Oliver would try and keep up his end of the bargain. At least until graduation, then he really didn't care  _what_ they said or to whom.

When Duncan and Lex exited the school, Oliver could see that Luthor was trying to do what he'd said; convince Duncan this was a better plan than giving them up to the headmaster. He could also see he was failing at it.

"I'm just saying we should think about this…"

Duncan shook his head, walking a few steps ahead of him, looking back over his shoulder as he spoke. What's there to think about? We  _tell_  the headmaster what we saw, and then Queen and those two jerks are out of here."

Lex grabbed his arm, turning him around so they were face to face. "But we  _have_  something on Queen now," he reminded, eyes flashing with what little power he had. "No way is he  _ever_  gonna try anything again." Eyes narrowed, a faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "We could  _use_  this,  _force_ him to act like our friend so we can have some respect in this place.

Duncan struggled to understand him. "You don't  _pretend_  to be friends with somebody, Lex…" He shook his head. "You either are or you aren't."

Frowning, Lex looked away, obviously not agreeing.

And while Oliver couldn't say he  _liked_ Duncan or even appreciated his desire to get him expelled… he could at least agree that the kid knew what friendship really was.

"I'm gonna turn them in," he said simply, before turning around to walk away.

Oliver, Alden and Geoffrey stood at the end of the path. Hands tucked in his pockets, head cocked, he glared darkly at the two boys. "I thought you said you were gonna  _handle_  this," he said, looking past to stare sternly at Lex.

Mind working quick to understand how Oliver would know, the hurt became evident in the furrow of his brows. Turning around, he stared at Lex. "You  _told_  them?"

"This is our chance, Duncan…" Lex circled him, stabbing his finger in the air with inflection. "We don't have to be on the outside anymore."

Duncan looked as though he were seeing Lex for the first time… and he wasn't sure he liked what it was he was seeing. "I-I  _never_ felt that way, not when you were my friend." He moved to walk past him.

Lex shoved at his chest to stop him. " _Just_  listen to me."

Duncan pushed him away. "Get out of my way."

Oliver stepped in, looking to stop him. He just needed to intimidate him, make him back off, rethink things, give this up. "Hey…" He shoved him back. "Where do you think  _you're_  going?"

Lex jumped in once more, grabbing each of Duncan's arms desperately. "Just keep your mouth shut, and everything will be okay!"

Duncan struggled with him, finally shoving him away, exclaiming angrily, "Get  _off_ of me!"

Incensed, face twisted in a snarl, Lex ran at Duncan from behind, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him hard into the tree next to the three boys. Dazed, he stumbled backwards, and Lex pulled him back, throwing him to the leaf-covered ground before jumping on him, bashing his head back into the dirt.

Together, Oliver, Alden and Geoffrey moved to stand over them, staring first in shock at Lex's vicious attack as he brutally punched Duncan's face repeatedly. Faintly in his ears, beneath the sound of fist meeting bloody face, Oliver could hear Alden crying, "Get him, Lex! Yeah! Get him!"

But overpowering it was the voice in his own head, the one wondering,  _Wasn't this what you wanted?_ Some primal outlet to all the rage bottled up inside. A release on the anger and the hurt and the loneliness. Wasn't that why he picked on Lex? To see him finally explode? He picked on him because he could see that short fuse, just waiting for a spark, and he wanted to be the one to light it, he wanted to be the reason Lex Luthor finally snapped, for all to see. Because he felt it in himself, the desolate emptiness that never seemed to fill. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

So Oliver watched and watched as Lex's bloody fists, one after the other, kept hitting and pounding and smashing away at the only person willing to be his friend. At the only boy who didn't care if he was bald or rich or all there in the head. And slowly, any enjoyment Oliver might've gotten over seeing the subsequent end of Lex Luthor, at seeing him waste what little good he had in his life, drained away. In its place was shame… It was horror and fear and repulsion at both his actions and those of the boy who was beating to death his only friend… because he wanted so  _badly_ to be accepted by Oliver.

What had he  _done?_

* * *

_Present_

"Looks like your new recruit wants to talk…" Chloe looked up from the computer, brow arched. "You think he found out anything?"

"It's been less than a day… If he's that good, I'm promoting him," Oliver scoffed lightly.

"From what? He hasn't earned his stripes yet…" She rolled her eyes. "Just because he can run faster than a speeding bullet, doesn't mean he's reliable… or even on our side." Brows furrowed, she pursed his lips. "I really hope you know what you're doing."

Dragging his sleeves up his arms, he shrugged. "Guess we're about to find out, aren't we?"

Sighing to herself, Chloe pushed the button to let Clark in and then sat back in her seat to survey him.

Stepping out of the elevator, Clark looked between them. "Oliver… Chloe…"

"New development or just felt like dropping by?" Oliver cut to the chase.

"Lana Lang is in the hospital… Seems she was nearly  _flattened_ by a chandelier at the Luthor Manor…" He stared at them with serious eyes.

Chloe stared back thoughtfully. "And your connection to Lana would  _be…_?"

He frowned at her.

"Ah, history…" She half-smiled before getting back to business. "I'm guessing Lex was with her, making it all a little too uncanny to be taken as accident."

"Is Lana gonna be okay?" Oliver wondered.

"I think so." Hands tucked in his pockets, he walked further into the room, looking at the various papers cluttering the desk. "Looks like you're wrong about Lex being the one behind the attacks."

Oliver glanced at Chloe, his hands crossing behind his back. "Unless he orchestrated this one to throw off suspicion."

Brow raised, Clark argued, "If Lex was the only one hurt, then I'd probably think the same thing…" He shook his head. "It'd be like you letting Chloe get hurt…"

Oliver nodded thoughtfully. "He loves Lana too much to risk her life…"

Clark's eyes fell somberly as he swallowed tightly.

Chloe's brows furrowed curiously. Apparently the big guy had it bad for Lex's girl… Interesting.

With a firmer voice, Clark continued, "These attacks aren't  _random_ …"

Oliver's eyes turned away and he took a step back, looking stricken.

"What are you  _hiding?_ "

"Nothing you need to worry your giant head about," Chloe interrupted, rising from her desk. "If that's all you've got, we can take it from here."

Annoyed, Clark looked ready to fight for answers.

"No…" Oliver shook his head. "He should know."

Chloe's eyes widened. "Oliver…" She crossed the room, reaching for his arm. "Look, I get the honesty amongst thieves policy, he's a fellow crime-fighter, good for him…" She stared up at him searchingly. "But just how much stock do you want to  _put_ in him?"

"Enough that he'll know what's he getting into," he replied, before turning around to stare at Clark seriously. "There's only one thing we all have in common…"

Clark raised a brow curiously.

"We killed Duncan Allenmeyer ten years ago…"

* * *

_Excelsior_ _Academy_ _, 1996_

Lex wouldn't stop. His fists were flying and Duncan could do no more than put his hands up as pitiful protection against the onslaught of rage. Oliver watched on in shock. Any cheers from Alden and Geoffrey had faded away. Finally, he realized that Lex  _wouldn't_ stop; not unless somebody made him. Not unless somebody forced him to get off of Duncan.

"Why do you have to be such a loser?" he asked, still punching away.

"Lex! That's enough!" Oliver said, grabbing at his shoulder.

Alden tried too, "Lex, stop it!"

"What are you doing? Lex, come on." Grabbing him around his chest, Oliver yanked him off of Duncan. " _Stop!_ "

Lying on the ground, Duncan touched his battered face hesitantly.

Geoffrey and Alden stared at Lex with shocked wide eyes.

"Dude...psycho much?"

Oliver stared at a panting Lex Luthor, brows furrowed. "There's something seriously wrong with you."

Cringing in pain, letting out little muffled noises as he tried to get up from the ground, Duncan struggled.

Lex stared at the blood spotted Excelsior shield he'd torn from Duncan's jacket in shocked horror.

Crying in pain, Duncan finally found his footing, glanced once at his former friend and then began walking out of the yard, toward the street, his hands held up, pained and bloody.

Lex took a step toward him, suddenly filled with remorse. "Duncan."

"Get away from me!" he cried, shoving Lex's hands away and walking backwards.

The four of them, all shocked at the ramifications of their actions, at what had come of it all, followed after him slowly.

Backing through the gate, he looked down at his hands, at the mess Lex had made of him. "You want to be one of them so  _badly_ , Lex?" he exclaimed, hiccupping on a strangled sob. "Is that it? You can't stand being a loser like  _me?_ " He stepped back, waving at Lex. "Well, congratulations, buddy. Now you're  _their_ friend. And you can all go–"

Step after step, led straight into traffic, and the screech of a car horn was heard, cutting Duncan off mid-sentence as it barreled into him, sending him up into the windshield as it screeched to a hasty halt.

"Duncan!" Oliver screamed in horror, his eyes wide as he ran forward. Behind him, Geoffrey and Alden were at his heels.

"Oh my god!" Geoffrey mumbled in shock.

Stopping at the gate, with Lex there behind them, they stared on at the mangled and unmoving body of Duncan Allenmeyer.

Oliver's heart beat painfully in his chest, his face twisted with disbelief.

He was the reason for the this. The  _cause_ of this. Because of him and the way he acted, how he treated Lex and Duncan, the daily ridicule, all in a bid to release his own personal pain, he'd caused the death of a boy he hardly knew. A boy too young to die so tragically.

And in that moment, watching blood spider-web down Duncan's face, Oliver knew he would never be the same.

* * *

_Present_

Eyes staring off into the cityscape outside his tower window, Oliver added, "Duncan suffered massive brain injuries." His eyes were wide, far off, and Chloe knew he was reliving it once more, experiencing the horror of seeing a boy die and feeling certain he was the reason for it. She wanted to reach out to him, to talk sense into him, but he wouldn't listen, he never did. What happened that day was horrible and yes, Oliver played a part in it. But by no means did he cause Duncan's death. If he hadn't torn Lex off of him, there was a good chance Lex would've pummeled that boy to death with his bare hands. Through chance and bad timing, that boy stumbled into a street where someone was driving too fast to slow down in time. And yes, if he hadn't been fighting with Lex, if he hadn't been so upset that he'd lost his only friend, if he hadn't  _hated_ Lex and Oliver and the others so much, he might not have been there in that moment, might not have died so horribly… But that didn't mean that Oliver had  _killed_ him.

And sadly, though she was hesitant to admit it, the death of one boy had saved another. While it might have been the time on the island that had opened his eyes some, it was the experiences beforehand that had helped get him to the person he was. She wasn't sure he would've been as kind or as understanding if he hadn't done some horrible things in his life and tried to repent for them. She couldn't say it was a fair trade, one life for another; her bias might've swayed the opinion anyway.

"Is there  _anything_ else that you haven't told me?" Clark demanded.

Chloe ground her teeth. She wasn't sure yet whether she liked Kent and she  _really_ didn't appreciate the way he asked that. As if everything could have been avoided had Oliver come out and told Clark his every deep, dark secret. Things weren't so black and white and there was no way any of them could have seen this turn of events coming.

Pulling back from his memories, he sighed. "Just the denouement," Oliver said, turning around to face him. "Lionel Luthor sweeping in with the best doctors in the world to save Duncan."

Brows raised, Clark cocked his head. "Lionel?" he asked, surprised.

Oliver walked past him, nodding to himself. "I thought it was act of  _kindness_ …" He frowned. "Now that I'm older, I realize it was just an act."

"You were a kid…" Chloe pursed her lips. "The Luthor's have banked their name on their acting skills."

He half-smiled agreeably, crossing to sit down on the edge of the desk next to her. Looking across to Clark, he told him, "Lionel was trying to cover up what happened between Lex and Duncan… Trying to cover up the  _stink_ off the Luthor name."

Brows furrowed, Clark wondered, "How did he know about all this?"

"He got the whole story from Lex…"

He looked away thoughtfully.

Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive motion Chloe knew all to well. Reaching over, she tucked her arm in the crook of his elbow, her thumb stroking back and forth comfortingly.

"Duncan was on scholarship," Oliver told Clark. "His parents couldn't afford a band-aid, let alone a team of neurosurgeons… So  _Lionel_ ," he sneered, his distaste for the man obvious, "promised to take care of the whole thing."

"As long as everyone kept quiet," Clark deduced, nodding slowly.

"Not that it mattered." He glanced away. "Duncan died two days later."

Clark raised his head to stare seriously at Oliver. "It  _was_  an accident. It just happened."

Oliver ducked his head, shaking it firmly. "No. No, I told myself that same lie for years…"

"Oliver," Chloe sighed, feeling her throat burn. Sometimes, with all of the things they'd accomplished, all of the good times they shared, she forgot just how much turmoil he'd been through.

He looked sadly at her, saying almost as if to convince her as much as himself, "The truth is, all of us might as well have pushed him out in front of that car."

She shook her head.

He turned back to Clark. "Alden, Geoffrey, Lex…  _Me_  – we all killed Duncan Allenmeyer." Inhaling thickly, he bowed his head, shoulders set with tension.

"What about his family?" Clark wondered. "If they believe you killed him, one of them might be behind this."

"We thought about that. Chloe looked and the only relative she could find was his mother."

"Where's she?"

"Grandville Cemetery," Chloe said, frowning.

Oliver nodded. "She passed away months ago."

Clark frowned. "There must be someone else. Someone you may have missed."

He shook his head. "Chloe's thorough…" He looked over to her, brows furrowed. "Would you have found it if records were scrubbed clean?"

She raised a brow. "Only if I'd been looking for that person to begin with. If there's no record to point me in their direction I can't say it'd jump out… Why? What are you thinking?"

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. "The only one who had contact with Duncan's family was  _Lionel_ … If he wanted, he could erase any trace of them." Sighing, he leaned back. "But I'm not exactly high on his buddy list; not a good chance of him talking to me."

Exchanging a look, they both turned to stare at Clark thoughtfully.

Realization dawning, his eyes widened. He'd just been volunteered to chat with Lionel Luthor.

* * *

An hour later, Oliver was sitting in his practice room, staring thoughtfully into space.

"You wanna share with the class?" Chloe encouraged, crossing the room to sit on the stairs next to him.

"I was just retracing my steps…" he murmured, turning his eyes toward.

"How far back?" she asked knowingly.

His lips twitched with a faint smile. "I'm trying to remember exactly when I thought it would be cool or even  _okay_ to start picking on Lex…" He frowned darkly, eyes falling to the floor. "When I lost any sense of honor."

"You were a teenager, Oliver… It was  _years_  ago…  _Ten_ , to be exact." She stared up at him with searching eyes. "What is it going to take for you to realize that you are  _not_ who you were then?"

"A carnival mirror," he mused, scoffing.

Reaching out, she took his hand, squeezing hard. "Sometimes, you eyes are  _obscenely_ defective."

He snorted, arching a brow questioningly.

"Whoever it is you keep seeing when you look at yourself… You're  _so_ off base, it's  _ridiculous_."

"And maybe it's  _you_ who needs glasses," he argued, eyes darting away.

"Oliver… I think we can both agree that I  _know_ you… And I  _see_ you…" Reaching up, she took his face in her hands. "That boy who did those things, the boy you think killed Duncan… He  _died_ that day… And a different Oliver took his place; an Oliver who recognized what he did and what his actions meant for others. An Oliver that was willing to spend the rest of his life fighting demons, inside himself and out there on the street." She stroked his cheekbones affectionately. "And that Oliver is sitting here with me… trying desperately to pay for mistakes that have no payment plan."

"When'd I get so lucky I deserved to have  _you_  in my life?" he wondered, his brows furrowed as if he truly couldn't understand it.

She smiled. "You want an exact date, because I still have that banquet invite put away in a box somewhere… Ah, memories," she teased softly.

He shook his head, half-smiling to himself. Sobering, however, he turned to look at her seriously. "Why don't you go stay at Lois' tonight? Swap near-death experiences and pig out on junk food, my treat."

Eyes narrowing, she pursed her lips. "You're trying to get rid of me… Why?" It only took her a moment to put it together. "You think whoever killed Alden and Geoffrey and  _tried_ to get Lex is going to come after  _you_ now…" She scowled. "And you don't want me in the crossfire."

He frowned. "I just think it'll be safer if you bunk with Lois until we know for sure what's going on?"

"Are you  _kidding_ me?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You want me to leave you here, in an apartment designed with its own  _weapon's artillery_ to take on some  _unknown assailant?_ " She laughed incredulously. "You must've missed your Wheaties this morning, Oliver, because that is the  _worst_ plan you've ever had."

Determined, he turned toward her. "Whether I'm the target or not, having you here puts you in danger. Look at Lana, she—"

"I am the  _furthest_ thing from damsel in distress, Oliver… And just because you're worried I'll step under the proverbial chandelier with you, doesn't mean I have to agree…" She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head stubbornly. "We're in this together."

"This isn't your mistake," he reminded loudly.

"For the last few years it's been me and you and if you think I'm going to bail when things get bad, you haven't been paying attention." Rising to her feet, hands on her hips, she said down to him, "Now you can either wallow here or you can pick up your bow and do something about it. But if you won't save your leathered ass,  _I will_ …" Walking down the stairs, she bee-lined it toward the stairs.

Pausing, she took in a deep breath and turned back to him. "If you can look me in the eye and tell me that some little part of you doesn't actually believe you deserve this… That you don't  _want_ whoever this person is to attack you to make you feel like you paid your due… Then I will walk out of here and let you deal with this on your own…" Turning around, she stared at him. "But don't think for a _second_  you can lie to me."

Jaw ticking, he weighed the options, his words, and then looked at her. "Whether I think I deserve it doesn't mean I'd ever let it happen… I'd never leave you like that."

"You fight for me all the time, Oliver…" Her face fell. "Just this once, fight for  _yourself_."

With that, she left, and Oliver was forced to reconsider ten years of regret.

* * *

Across Metropolis, in a treatment facility, a nurse walked purposefully down a dark hallway, pushing a cart with wheels that squeaked with each passing inch of floor. Pausing in front of room 237, she used her key to unlock the door before walking through it backwards, pulling her cart in with her. Taking a syringe filled with a vibrant green liquid, she walked toward the patient set up in a wheelchair, unresponsive with his eyes splayed wide and an array of monitors beeping and moving behind him. Approaching his IV bag, she uncapped the needle and looked at the young man, saying, "It's time for your treatment, Duncan," before she pushed the plunger on the syringe, injecting the liquid into his IV line. And as it ran down, pulsing through his veins, a green light lit deep inside Duncan Allenmeyer's eyes, giving life to a rage inside him, eager to be free.

* * *

Chloe didn't tell Oliver about her lead, instead setting out on her own to check out her latest lead. He needed time to think and she needed to figure this out. Because believing that karma had suddenly decided to rear its ugly head and had Oliver on its hit list was just not acceptable. She'd seen weird things in her life but they always ended up having some sort of explanation.

If Oliver wasn't eyes-deep in regret he might've helped her figure this one out. Instead, she was alone while searching through Duncan's mother's old phone records. Having found Mrs. Allenmeyer called a facility based in Metropolis  _daily_ , she decided to check it out herself. Filching the patient log off of a distracted nurses' desk, she was more than a little surprised to find Duncan Allenmeyer listed… and alive. Checking the room number, she followed the hallways and stairwells until she reached room 237 and found it unfortunately locked. Rolling her eyes, she bent to her knees, took out her lock-pick and got to work.

Footsteps coming around the corner drew her eyes and she quickly pretended to be looking for a contact. But when a pair of mucky boots paused in front of her, she frowned, looking up to see none other than Clark Kent peering back at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Rolling her eyes, she stood. "We need to work on your communications skills, Kent." Arms crossed over her chest, she arched a brow. "I'm guessing Lionel pointed you in this direction?"

He nodded. "His specialists were able to keep Duncan's heart beating, but he was too far gone so he was stuck in a vegetative state."

Chloe frowned. "Okay, then why let everyone believe he was dead? Alive and in a coma would look better than dead and buried, especially with his  _son_ involved."

He sighed. "I guess he made a deal with Duncan's mom. He'd pay for a research team to try and bring him back and she—"

"Wouldn't say anything," she realized, nodding.

"Right. They've tried  _hundreds_ of treatments and none of them took…" He glanced back at the room.

Chloe followed his gaze. "Or they did and it manifested differently than expected... Okay." She motioned to the door. "Rather than me picking it open, why don't you use that super-strength and cheat us a way in?"

He pursed his lips but did what she asked, reaching out and giving the knob a quick thrust, breaking the lock.

Chloe glanced at him once before walking inside, heart beating hard against her chest, wondering just what they might find.

* * *

Oliver sat back at his desk in Queen Towers, Chloe had left a little over an hour and he wondered if he should call or let it rest for awhile. She said she would leave if he'd promised to fight whatever might be coming after him, but now that she was gone he was reconsidering. The penthouse seemed empty without her and he wasn't sure he liked the idea of her being out on her own, an unknown assailant out for his blood. Anybody who knew him knew that Chloe was the best bargaining tool around; he would do anything for her. He stared at the picture of them, their smiling faces, the frame angled next to the one of him as a child with his parents. The only three people he would do anything not to disappoint.

The phone next to him buzzed then and he reached over. "Yes, Sarah?"

"He's arriving now, Mr. Queen," she replied.

"Thank you." Releasing the button, he heard the elevator arrive, the steel doors separating. He glanced over. "Lex, I was wondering how long it was gonna take you to pop up." He rose from his seat, circling the desk.

Stepping into the room, Lex stood with his hands tucked away in his long black trenchcoat. Anger simmered off of him. "I've been busy…" he said shortly. "At the hospital."

"I heard about Lana..." He stopped in front of him. "Is she gonna be all right?"

"She'll be fine…" His eyes narrowed. "Not that you really  _care_."

"No, I  _do_  care…" He nodded ever so slightly. "I care that a nice girl like that ended up with a guy like  _you_."

"I could say the same," Lex returned, arching a brow. "I did a little reading up on your girlfriend, Oliver… Or should I call her your  _wife?_ As Alden and Geoffrey so quaintly coined her."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Before you start acting righteous, you should know that Chloe knows  _everything_ … Something I'm sure you can't say the same about Lana."

Staring at him darkly, Lex advanced a step toward him. "Ever since you came to Metropolis, I've been  _kidnapped_ , my life put in jeopardy, and now the woman I love is lying in a hospital bed."

"And you think it's my fault?" He cocked his head, brows flashing before he looked away thoughtfully. "Sounds to me more like bad karma."

"Go back to Star City, Oliver…" he ordered firmly. "While you still can." He turned to leave then, taking a step before Oliver's ominous voice reached out.

"I've seen that look before… When was it…? Oh, yeah…" Voice hardening, he said, "When you almost beat your only friend to death back at Excelsior."

Turning to stare at him over his shoulder, Lex's body slowly moved with him. He took a moment, eyes falling as he thought, and then with vicious force, he extended his arm, hand fisted, punching Oliver square in the jaw.

Off-kilter, rage blooming in his chest, Oliver walked a few steps away. Raising a hand to wipe at the blood dripping from his mouth, he turned back and motioned his bloody hand at Lex. "That's good… First one's free." He licked his lip clean. "Next one's gonna cost ya."

Breathing heavy, Lex sneered before taking another swing.

Ready this time, Oliver blocked it, grabbed Lex by his collar and tossed him across the room, crashing into a glass table as he landed.

Arms swinging faintly at his sides, Oliver sidled back toward him. "Poor little Lex, always blaming everyone else for all of his problems."

Bent on his knees, shattered glass across his back, Lex tossed over his shoulder, "Only when they're the cause," before pushing to his feet and throwing his arm out to hit him.

Oliver dodged his arm, took a shot at Lex's stomach, another to his face, and then grabbed him by his jacket and threw him tumbling back into a chair across the room. As he rolled to the floor, Oliver snarled, "You never could take responsibility for what happened to Duncan."

Shoving to his feet, Lex said through grit teeth, "Like your hands were clean!"

"No…" He shook his head, a dribble of blood sliding down his chin. "Not even close. But since then, I've been scrubbing 'em real hard… Yours just keep getting dirtier."

Lex breathed hard through his teeth, his eyes wide in rage, but before they could start boxing once more, the rattling of the glass balcony door drew their attention. Shaking violently by some unseen force, the door fought to open, the glass vibrating precariously.

Eyes wide, Oliver grabbed and shoved Lex out of the way as the glass finally shattered, shards flying everywhere. Landing hard on the floor, Oliver pushed to a kneeling position and looked over to Lex to find him face down on the ground, not moving. "Lex?" He bent low to check his face but found him unconscious.

As the doors to his weapons room opened, Oliver stood, turning to stare as the shelves shook with the same force as the doors had previously. Looking around, searching for some kind of reason, he paused, hearing a whoosh behind him. Turning, he saw one of his own green arrows raised in the arrow, poised for him. Eyes widening, he watched in shock as it suddenly shot across, imbedding itself through his shoulder, rocketing him off his feet and pinning him to the wall behind him.

Groaning in pain, he grit his teeth and stared down at the end sticking out.

This was not good.

* * *

"His vitals are changing," Chloe murmured, looking from each monitor back to Clark. Eyes wide, she shook her head. "He's showing signs of brain activity… and  _a lot_  of it."

"Guess the new treatments are working," Clark mused.

"What new treatment?" she asked, crossing to look at the notes he had in his hand.

"Something called 12-B. It's experimental." His jaw ticked. "And it's derived from refined meteor rocks."

Her eyes flashed. "The same meteor rock that's been causing powers in the wholesome folks in Smallville?"

He stared at her, brows furrowed with surprised.

"Later," she said, staring down at the paperwork. "Look at the injection times..."

"They coincide with the attacks," he realized.

She sighed. "Looks like we found our killer… Think the cops'll buy this?"

"Wait a minute," he argued, "These treatments, they might stimulate brain activity, but he's still in a wheelchair..."

"His  _body_ , yes… But if these charts are right, whatever they're giving him is creating a whole new kind of electrical storm. Now, Lois sent me this half-crazy article from the Inquisitor about brain waves and astral projection… Any other day, I'd say the Inquisitor was a hack paper, but if we're looking at a meteor rock induced out-of-body experience…" She shook her head. "Who knows what that could mean…"

"Astral projection," he repeated doubtfully.

She cocked a brow. "You got a better idea?"

His mouth dropped open but he couldn't come up with anything.

"Right." She looked back at the paperwork. "When was his last injection?"

Clark thumbed through the papers. "Twenty minutes ago."

Suddenly, a rapid beeping could be heard from behind them. Turning, they found Duncan's body vibrating in his chair and his vitals going crazy. The monitor showing his brain flashed rapidly with colors, letting them know he was activating parts unknown to general people.

Cursing, Chloe looked back and shook her head. "It's happening again and if I'm right, Duncan's out there getting revenge on Oliver or Lex. You have to—" Air kicked up around her, letting her know he'd already left, and she rolled her eyes. "Convenient but  _really_ annoying," she muttered to herself.

* * *

Back at the apartment, Oliver watched as the steel box in his weapons room opened and the specialized electromagnetic pulse arrow had risen into the air. Swallowing tightly, his eyes widened as it shot off toward him, spiraling lethal with intent. Jaw set, his last thought was that Chloe was never going to forgive him for his stupidity.

Mid-way to its target, the arrow slammed into a super-speeding and impenetrable Clark Kent, sending a blue glow across the room as the pulse meant to knock out everything electrical. Vibrating, the blue energy wrapped around an unseen human body standing in the room, lighting it up for them to see before it seemed to absorb into itself and disappear from sight, leaving the room entirely calm.

Clark looked back at Oliver, who was breathing heavy, furrowed brows staring out at the near unbelievable sight he'd just witnessed.

* * *

In the hospital, Chloe watched as Duncan flailed, lurching in his seat before fading slowly, body falling limp and vital signs crashing to nothing. Walking toward the boy, she frowned. "I'm sorry," she murmured to his pale, empty face. "If we'd known…"

Shaking her head, she backed up and fled from the room before nurses or staff could question why she was there.

An hour later, she made it back to the apartment, taking the elevator to the top floor and stepping into the mess that Oliver, Lex and Duncan had made. She found her best friend sweeping up glass with his one good arm and shook her head. "Surprised you know how to use one of those…"

He smiled back at her. "They had a Housekeeping Team at Excelsior."

"Lemme guess, you were the captain," she teased, half-rolling her eyes.

Slowly, his smile faded. "I'm sorry I asked you to leave… I was being an idiot… I should've known that whatever happened, whoever was involved, we could handle it, together."

"You're right… You should have." She sighed, walking toward him, head turned to one side to look up at him gently. "But there are still some demons hanging around in your closet and I can't expect you to kick them out on my behalf…"

He shook his head. "I thought I was past this and I wasn't… I still feel like what happened to Duncan is mostly my fault."

"You had a part in it," she agreed, nodding. "But you can't spend your whole life regretting it. You have to move on, accept what you did and how it happened, and know that you learned something from it."

"It seems too easy sometimes…" He frowned. "Like I deserve worse."

"I think after all these years, worse is what you got…" Reaching out, she took the broom from him. "Maybe you need to share the load a little… Get it off your chest."

He nodded slowly. "There's a zero tolerance bullying program going into effect in some schools across the states… I want to endorse it. And I'd like to share what I did and how it affected others… Let the kids know it doesn't always end well."

She smiled up at him. "I think that's a great idea." Grabbing the dustpan, she pressed it to his chest. "I'll sweep, you hold it steady."

He grinned. "I can do that."

After they put the apartment back to rights, Chloe called out for dinner and Oliver grabbed them each a beer before they sprawled out on the couch. Tossing her feet into his lap, she cracked her bottle open and sat back against the arm of the couch. "Did I mention you have a pretty nice fat lip there?"

He frowned at her. "Shut up."

"Did strong and powerful Lex get the drop on you?" She put a hand to her forehead and cried dramatically, " _Swoon!_ "

He glared at her witheringly. "Not funny."

She laughed. "Kinda funny."

* * *

The following afternoon, Chloe and Oliver made their way to Lex's manor.

"You're sure you want to do this?" she asked, her arm looped in the crook of his.

"It's a long time in coming…" he sighed.

"We couldn't send a card?" she wondered, half-hopefully.

He smiled at her. "If the roles were reversed, would I accept a card?"

She harrumphed. "Touché, Queen… Touché."

Laughing under his breath, he drew her along as they followed after a security guard.

"Think we should get one of those for our place?" he asked, nodding to the henchmen dressed in a sharp black suit.

She snorted. "One, it's  _your_ place, I just visit a lot. And two, no… No, we really don't need one of those. How  _uncomfortable_ would that be?" She shook her head. "Queen Manor is a  _home_ , this is a mausoleum." Pausing just outside the study, Chloe looked up at him. "I'll wait here for you, all right?"

He nodded. "Try not to let your curiosity distract you," he teased, hoping she wouldn't go looking for trouble.

* * *

In his study, Lex was sitting with Lana, explaining his past to her.

"I wasn't the most popular kid at Excelsior…" he said, holding Duncan's blood-soiled school crest between his fingers. "The way I looked, the rumors about what happened to my brother, Julian…" With emphasis, he told her, "But Duncan didn't care... He was my only friend..." He inhaled sharply through his teeth. "And I betrayed him."

"Lex, you were just a boy. What matters is the man you've become."

He turned appreciatively toward her, reaching out to squeeze her knee in thanks.

Just then, Oliver stepped into the study, drawing their attention.

Lex looked up. "You're early."

"It's not often I get invited into the lion's den…" He half-smiled. "I didn't want you changing your mind."

"I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss." Lana rose from her seat, nodding to their guest. "Mr. Queen."

Oliver returned the nod. "Miss. Lang." As she left the room, Oliver approached the table coffee table Lex sat behind, eyes wandering briefly after Lana. "You're a lucky man…"

"In more ways than one…" He pursed his lips in a faint smile and stood, staring thoughtfully at Oliver. "I should be dead… but here I stand."

Oliver smiled faintly, if not a little sarcastically. "Well, you would have done the same thing for me… Right?"

"I wanted to say thank you," Lex replied. "And that's all I wanted to say." Eyes falling away from him, he turned to walk away. "I'm sure you have business to get back to."

Oliver watched him go. "Lex," he called loudly.

Frowning, Lex paused, turning around to face him, his expression dark.

Expression sincere, Oliver said, "What happened to Duncan… the way I treated both of you… it's not something I'm proud of." His brows knotted.

Lex stared at him, his face clearing slightly.

"I want you to know how much I regret it…"

Lex walked toward him slowly. "And I regret… ever thinking I needed friends like  _you_."

Oliver stared back, firming his lips, nodding slightly before he turned and walked away, leaving Lex to watch after him pensively.

Chloe stood forward as Oliver walked into the hallway. "Hey… How'd it go?" she wondered.

He shook his head slightly, reaching over and taking her hand. "Some things just aren't forgivable…"

Squeezing his fingers in hers, she leaned into his arm. "And some people aren't forgiving."

He smiled at her slightly. "I'm lucky, you know… That I have such a good influence in you."

She laughed quietly. "With our extra-curricular activities, I'm not sure  _good_ is the right word for it."

Chuckling, he wrapped his good arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. "I'm lucky nonetheless."

Hooking her arm around his waist, she replied, "Me too."

Together, they left the manor and never looked back.

* * *

That night, Oliver sat in the barn with Clark while Chloe was inside chatting with Martha.

On the wooden stairs, Oliver called out to Clark as he easily moved hay bails to and fro, "So, that things that attacked us, Duncan's astral body or whatever you want to call it, must have been some form of electrical manifestation."

Clark nodded. "And it got fried by your electromagnetic arrow. Along with what was left of Duncan's brain."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Pausing, Clark put his hands on his hips and sighed. "You know, making the wrong choices and living with the consequences – it's not easy, is it?"

Oliver looked up at him, brow arched knowingly. "Speaking from experience, huh?"

He nodded, frowning at the ground. "More than I'd like."

Standing from his perch on the stairs, he walked down to meet him. "You know, we all make bad choices, Clark. All we can do is hope to make the right ones in future, right?" He shook his head. "I spent a long time regretting what I did, and I should have. My part in Duncan's death was something I'll never forget… But I also know that letting it represent who I am doesn't make sense…. 'Cause I'm not that angry kid anymore… I'm better than that and maybe part of the reason is because I'm trying so hard to make up for what I did…" He smiled faintly. "Mistakes have a way of making you learn things the hard way…"

Understanding, Clark smiled, nodding to himself.

"All right, boys, male-bonding time is over," Chloe called out, walking through the barn. "I've talked Martha into letting me have the recipe to her apple pie, so…" She looked up at Oliver as she paused at his side. "You and me have a date with the grocery store. I need eggs, flour, every ingredient you can think of, you know… The  _usual_."

He grinned, wrapping an arm around her. "We couldn't just stop at a bakery?"

"Blasphemy… You're getting a home-cooked desert whether you like it or not." She grinned, sliding an arm around his waist and then looked over to Clark. "Right, sorry… I've got that footage you wanted from Dark Thursday." She handed over a flash-drive. "And thank you… If it wasn't for you and your super-speed, I might just be eating apple pie alone…" She smirked up at her best friend. "And how tragic would that be?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You would've missed me."

"Terribly," she agreed.

Staring at her a moment longer, he smiled. "All right, well, Clark…" He looked back over at him. "You know where to find us…" He nodded down at the flash drive purposefully before he and Chloe left.

With another part of his past put behind him, he was moving more and more toward a future. And with Chloe at his side, he couldn't help but think that it was brighter with each step.

"I'm driving," she told him, breaking loose from his arm and running toward the car.

"Only because it hurts my shoulder whenever I turn!" he called after her, laughing.

She stuck her tongue out back at him and Oliver hoped he'd feel this carefree the rest of his life.


	29. XXVIII. Of Near Death Experiences and Super Drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler(s): 6x07 - Rage

**XXVIII.** _Of Near Death Experiences and Super Drugs_

"Mr. Queen…? Your two o'clock is here," his assistant's voice called out across the phone speaker.

Oliver glanced over at the phone and then up at the time. "Thanks, Sara. Send her in."

A moment later, a thin woman with sharp features walked in, her back rigidly straight and her hair up in a too-tight bun. "Mr. Queen," she greeted, her eyes wide with nervousness.

"Dr. Black," he replied, grinning widely. "Please, have a seat…" He motioned to the chair set up in front of his desk and then returned to sit behind it. "So, if I understand correctly, you're on sabbatical from Princeton and you were encouraged to contact me in regards to a drug you've been testing. Something called the…" He lifted up his folder and perused the contents. "RL65, is that right?"

"Yes," she said, nodding quickly. "Our previous backers didn't have a lot of patience and, well, all good work takes time."

"Okay, so… Tell me what it is, what it does… and why I should invest in you?" He stared at her seriously; his eyes boring into her hard enough to demand that she take him seriously.

"In lamens terms, it's a drug specifically made to speed up healing time... We've had some success with our lab mice; taking only hours and later minutes before small injuries rapidly fixed themselves. In short, Mr. Queen, this could revolutionize life as we know it… No more waiting at the hospital for hours on end for a harried doctor to see to you… One injection of RL65 and you're _done_."

Eyes narrowed slightly, he licked his lips. "Minutes?" He leaned back in his chair. "And this was done on lab mice? There've been no human studies done?"

"Well…" She glanced away. "We couldn't afford to. Finding somebody to take an experimental drug, regardless of its healing properties, can be expensive… The last of our funding has already been used finding somewhere to house the drug and my team…" She shook her head slowly. "I'll be honest, you weren't the only name to come up on a list of benefactors."

Oliver's jaw ticked. "Lex Luthor, I assume."

She nodded shortly. "I'm not trying to pressure you but my research is invaluable to me… To put it off for any length of time, it's—"

"Unfair… Especially if you're on the verge of a breakthrough."

"Yes…" She nodded, smiling slightly. "I know with your personal team of doctors, you might not have the same problem, but I think a man of your charitable background will understand the struggle most middle-American's have to deal with… The world's a dangerous place, but if we can make it even a modicum safer…"

"That's priceless…" He mused, nodding. "All right, Dr. Black… You have my and Queen Industries full backing to continue your research."

She beamed, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Oh, sir, I can't thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to me and my team!"

He half-smiled. "I think I do… In fact, I'm offering myself up as your first human tester…"

Her eyes widened. "M-Mr. Queen, that is _too_ generous of you. I—"

"Can't say no," he interrupted, smirking. "If I'm going to send this out into the general populace, I want to know what I'm putting my stamp of approval on. And to be honest, I believe if you've got this right, it could truly help the world… And I'd like to be more than just the financial aid." Nodding, he leaned forward, staring at her firmly. "You get me your latest batch and when I find a reason to use it, I will… And then I'll let you know every little detail of how it works on an every-day human. All right?"

Uncertain but unwilling to let go of this chance, she nodded slowly. "Okay… You have a deal."

"Great." Oliver grinned. "I think this is going to be a very beneficial partnership, Dr. Black."

She smiled. "I believe you're right."

* * *

Hours later, Chloe stepped off the elevator, shaking her head. Briefly tapping her Bluetooth to let him know she was talking to someone, she half-rolled her eyes. "No, Lois, _really_ , Thanksgiving is in less than a week and I _promise_ you, I have it covered…" She sighed, shrugging her jacket off. "Yes, I know you're getting better at cooking, but—" She paused, listening, and then scoffed. "Of course we're not flying Elly out here to cook. She has family I'm sure she'll want to spend it with. Oliver and I are putting everything together ourselves…" Kicking her shoes off, she hung her jacket on a rack and moved to the couch off to the side, stretching her toes and the arch of her feet as she plopped down on the seat. "No, we're having a few friends come for dinner, too… You don't know them…" She snorted. "I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but there are more people in my life than you and Oliver…" She rubbed the furrow of her brows. "Yes, they're male… _No Lois_ , I'm _not_ dating any of them… Victor, AC, and Bart…" She grinned then. "I'm sure you'll hit it off with all of them and no, I'm not setting you up a date with _any_ of them… Hey, I gotta go, okay? I'll call you later. Ye—" She nodded, "Yes, love you too, bye."

Hitting the end button, she blew out a heavy sigh and leaned back into the couch. "Please tell me you had time to pick up the turkey today… I was walking through the stores earlier and I swear there is a turkey shortage going on."

From behind the desk, Oliver grinned. "I picked up a turkey… A big one… One that I think even _Bart_ won't be able to consume in one sitting."

She chuckled lightly. "Good… He's been texting me all day about various dishes he's hoping are coming with dinner. Candied yams, sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, asparagus… This is like _his_ day; the day to overeat and give thanks _for_ it."

"We'll pick up extra… of everything..." He pursed his lips. "Are you _sure_ you want to invite the boys? Having them sit down to a meal with Lois is like begging for a headline we don't want."

"She'll be on her best behavior," Chloe assured. "No work talk, that goes for all of us…" She smiled. "It'll be fun." Rising from the couch, she walked over to him, sitting down on the corner of the desk. "What'd you do today?"

"Business meetings all morning," he replied, nodding.

"That's it?" She sighed faux-mournfully. "Oh, the life of a CEO… as boring as it gets."

He half-smiled. "There was a doctor who stopped in actually, looking for funding on her research project."

"Really? What's it involve?"

"Hea—"

Her phone rang then, drawing her attention and Chloe frowned, reaching for it. "It's Jim…" She looked up at him apologetically. "I'm sorry; I have to take this… I know he said I could work from wherever but his last two journalists couldn't take the pressure and he's been running around like, well, a turkey with his head cut off." Hopping to her feet, she bent down and kissed his cheek. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

He nodded, watching her go as she touched her ear piece.

"Jim, hi… What's wrong now?"

Sitting back in his chair, Oliver opened the folder to RL65 again and started reading through the progress Dr. Black had made. When he told Chloe, he wanted to be sure he had all the facts.

* * *

Oliver had to wonder if they were always this busy, because it seemed they hardly had any time to _breathe_ lately. It was good thing Thanksgiving was only a few days away or they might actually have to arrange a meeting just to get some face time with each other. Despite the distance, Chloe was working on various Star City related pieces for Jim since his last few hires hadn't worked out and she was his go-to journalist. Add on top of that her international columns and she was writing half the paper. They at least still had their mornings together, where they could silently enjoy each other's company, do yoga, and get a little peace in before the hectic rest of the day.

Oliver had nearly forgotten all about RL65 and since his last few patrols had ended with him uninjured, aside from a few bruises, he hadn't had to contemplate using the syringes Dr. Black had given him. But distantly, at the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't telling Chloe about it for a reason. In the past, they'd been able to talk about everything; he'd shared things with her he had hardly been able to admit to himself. And if he believed so much in what Pamela Black was creating, why didn't he show Chloe?

The answer he found wasn't one he liked.

He felt weak. In comparison to Clark Kent, a veritable man of steel, what skills Oliver had honed seemed inconsequential. And while he was comfortable sharing most everything with Chloe, the idea of telling her that he felt like less of a hero with Clark out there didn't exactly rank high on his to-do list. The last thing he wanted to appear in her eyes was anything less of a man and when they'd taken it upon themselves to become these vigilante heroes, he'd felt stronger than ever before. Not only physically but in his mind-set, spiritually.

But if this worked, if RL65 could really heal him from whatever injuries his duo-identity might bring upon him, then the Clark Kent's of the world might as well be on an even playing field. Maybe it was selfish or self-involved, but if it meant keeping him alive long enough to save others… wasn't that what was important?

He promised himself that as soon as he knew RL65 was the right drug and that it worked, he would share it with her. After all, keeping her safe was more important than anything else.

* * *

"Okay… For future reference, Victor is a _god_ at his job… and you're lucky to have him," Chloe said, looking through the various faxed over papers in her lap. "And he's right… The weapons department is overused and understaffed…" Looking up, she arched a brow. "I've looked through some of the recommendations he's made and they're solid. And I mean, did-a-background-on-them-and-every-distant-family-member _solid_ …"

Oliver chuckled under his breath. "And the budget?"

She shook her head. "You could put a _dozen_ more people in that section and I guarantee it'll be worth it. Right now, progress is slower than usual. You guys lost a couple good people last year to Luthorcorp's less than scrupulous fishing for your employees and since then, a few of the others have been trying to make up for lost productivity… Unfortunately, it's weighing on them." Sitting back against the couch, she held up a stack of folders. "We've got fourteen resumes and it's time for you to put those CEO skills to work…" She waved them in the air.

He smiled. "Hire Victor's recommendations and leave the rest for me to sort through."

"Done." Nodding, she separated five from the pile and held the other nine up. "We've got four women, five men, and two are former Luthorcorp employees."

His eyes narrowed. "Former like they were mysteriously fired and are likely plants or former like they didn't agree with Luthorcorp policy and moved on to bigger, better things?"

She grinned. "I checked their history, with a little creative hacking, and I'd bet money these two were plants."

"So we're down to seven, okay…" He nodded thoughtfully. "Most qualified?"

She thumbed through them and plucked out two. "Twenty-five years of tech work between them."

He nodded. "Approved. Who else?"

"Mmm… This one…" She held up one of the folders. "Promising but I think she needs a little more field work before we let her play with the big boys."

"Young?"

Eyes wide for emphasis, she nodded.

"Offer her a paid internship." He motioned for the next one.

A beeping in the other room called her attention then and Chloe hopped up from the couch. "That would be our popcorn." Moving the folders to the table, she walked toward the kitchen. "Look through the other four… I think there's really only one left that would fit, two seem really out of their element and the other I think Victor sent over for a laugh."

His brows furrowed. "A laugh?"

"Check her hobbies… Modeling lingerie and jetting around the world…" She scoffed. "Yeah, I think she's looking for a rich husband, not a job!"

"What's her number?"

"Har, har," she returned, no doubt rolling her eyes.

Laughing to himself, Oliver picked up the papers, flipping through them, eyes scanning credentials and mission statements. Walking around the room in thought, he passed near the open balcony door, letting the cool night air in.

"I'm adding extra butter," she called out to him. "I don't care if it means more yoga!"

He smiled lightly, turning to reply only to pause mid-thought when he heard voices and crying down below. Stuffing the papers under his arm, he walked out onto the balcony and leaned over to see where it was coming from.

A car alarm blared, glass shattering, and a woman screaming out for help. Oliver's good mood faded quickly as he stepped back, his body tensing with the desire to fight.

"Chloe… Leave the popcorn, we've got something a little more pressing," he called out, bee-lining it for the hidden room they kept their gear.

Peeking her head out, brows furrowed, she saw where he was going and frowned. "Trouble I'm not aware of?"

"Carjacking downstairs…" Oliver grabbed his Green Arrow gear and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Meet me down there. These guys can't wait."

She gave a sharp nod.

* * *

Downstairs, a couple were being forced at gunpoint to empty their pockets. Sobbing, the woman struggled to stand upright, searching through her jacket with shaking hands.

Having been shoved into a car repeatedly, the man was feeling it, though adrenaline and fear had him listening as the two gunmen ordered him to give them everything he could find.

Impatient and fed up, the gunman, a scraggly looking man with tangled hair reaching past his chin, suddenly grabbed him by his shoulder and shoved him back before lifting his gun arm and bringing it back down heavily on the unarmed man's shoulder. As he fell to his knees, he was bashed painfully in the face with the butt of the gun and the fist around it.

Behind them, his accomplice shook his shaved head, laughing.

Breathing heavily, the gunman pointed his weapon at the woman. "You want some of this?" he growled, spittle escaping his lips.

"They don't…" Green Arrow's voice interrupted. "But I do."

He stared, wide-eyed at the leather-toting hero, not sure what to do.

Raising his crossbow, Oliver squeezed the trigger and released an arrow that slammed into the man's shoulder.

Grunting and reaching for his arm, he fell to the ground, his gun skittering across the wet pavement.

Together, the couple stared and then rose to their feet, eager to get away from the scene.

Scared, the second man jumped into the car and turned the ignition, backing up so quickly the tires squealed. Turning around, he began following the road leading out of the parkade, while Oliver leisurely walked across to stand on the ledge, drawing an arrow out from his quiver and lifting his long bow, aiming with careful precision. With a slight tilt to his lips, he released and watched as his arrow shattered the glass and startled the driver into swerving, losing control as his stolen car slammed into a parked truck, skidding still until it hit yet another parked vehicle.

Making his way down, Oliver circled the car as it smoked and sputtered, finally dying out, and yanked the passenger door open. Leaning inside, he handcuffed the thug to the steering wheel and sneered as he sat dazedly staring on, blood dribbling down his chin. Grabbing him by his shirt to get his attention, Oliver shook him a little. "Don't worry… cop's 'll have a key," he said before stepping back out and closing the door.

As he turned back around, feeling the thrill of a job well done, he was met with the previous thug holding a gun aimed at him. "Surprise," he rasped.

There was a moment where time seemed to slow down, where Oliver was certain that this bullet would be the end of everything. All that he'd worked for, all that he and Chloe had built, gone because a man with a gun hadn't appreciated the interference. A barrage of questions, of answers he never let himself give, filled his mind, and only one regret seemed to weigh on his shoulders.

An emptiness filled the man's eyes before he squeezed the trigger, as if he wouldn't be bothered by this theft of life anymore than he might any other small disturbance in his regular life. The snap-crack of the gun entered his ears in the same second Chloe attacked, the same breath he could see her white-clad body. The bullet pierced the right side of his chest; he swore he could feel every agonizing millimeter it cut through. A breath escaped his lungs, the last he was sure he'd ever breathe. Chloe was fighting the thug still, kicking and sparring and sending a foot painfully into the man's solar plexus until he grunted, hit the ground with his knees, his hands scraping along the pavement. And she kept attacking, out of fear or anger, he couldn't be sure. But her knee met his nose, shattering it, blood pouring, and she grabbed his hair, yanking his head back, staring down into his soulless eyes.

His hands were searching the ground as he sneered up at her through blood-stained teeth and he raised his gun again in a shaky, torn up hand.

"Ch-Ch-" Oliver choked out.

A second shot rang out and Oliver felt the tear in his heart worse than if he'd been hit a second time. The bullet blazed past her and she didn't even flinch, instead raising an arm back and bringing it down quick and fast, so brutally hard that the man was knocked sideways and out cold, hitting the pavement with a thud.

Oliver lay on the ground, staring off into the distant night, at the stars that seemed to fade from behind his eyes. He could hear his heartbeat slowing, could feel every inch of his body like it was a lead weight slowly slinking into the depths of darkness. And then she was there, leaning over him, her hood tossed back and her blonde hair falling across her cheeks.

"Oliver, hold on…" she told him, but her voice was hollow, as if coming through a tunnel. She reached for him, touched his face, and he thought it might be raining then because something warm and wet was falling against his face, slipping into the hollows of his eyes and splashing along the lenses of glasses.

He blacked out then, the taste of her tears salty on his tongue.

When he came back to, they were in the apartment and he was laid out across a table, his leather vest and undershirt tossed. Chloe's suit was unzipped and shoved down to her waist. Her hands and forearms were tinted red with drying blood and the white gauze she held was following the same route as she tried time and again to stop the bleeding. She was muttering under her breath, none of it quite reaching his ears enough to make sense, and her brow was furrowed. She bit her lip, shaking her head, as if she were arguing with herself.

He grabbed at her, his own hands slick with blood, slipping on her arm.

She stared down at him then, green eyes bloodshot as tears coursed down her cheeks. "You idiot," she rasped brokenly. "You should've waited for me." She reached the back of her hand up to wipe viciously at the tears but it only smeared blood across her cheek.

"The d-drawer," he choked out, turning his head toward the weapons room. "Syringe…"

She followed his gaze and though she couldn't understand what it meant, she trusted him enough to check it out. Inside the drawer she found a lead box, a syringe filled with purple liquid lying inside. Taking it, she ran back to him, her brows arched. "And this would be…?"

"The deciding factor," he said, trying to smile. "I-I'll ex-plain… Just…" He could feel the blood pooling beneath him. "Can't hurt t-to try…"

Her eyes fell worriedly to his chest and then returned to his face. "You better hope this works… Or I'm resurrecting you and kicking your ass…" With that, she turned his arm over, found a vein and stuck it in, pushing down on the plunger until every last drop coursed through him. Drawing it back out, she waited, staring. When nothing immediate happened, she bit her lip. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"No, just… just wait…" He inhaled deeply. "I can feel it… It's working."

"Yeah, or that's the blood loss talking and you're about to _die!_ " Stepping back, she reached for the phone. "They ask questions, I'll come up with something, but I can't just let you lie here—"

He sat up suddenly, reaching for his chest and probing at the tender flesh. "Chloe… _Look_ …"

She stared, brows furrowed. "I don't get it. _How_ …" She dropped the phone back to its cradle and walked toward him. "Oliver…" She touched his chest where the hole seemed to mend itself before her eyes, skin knitting together, nothing but a faint smudge of blood left behind to show there was anything there previously. Her eyes rose to his. "Not that I'm not overwhelmingly grateful, but I need an explanation…"

He nodded slowly. "There's this scientist, Dr. Pamela Black, she came to me awhile back, she needed funding for her research." He stared at her searchingly. "The healing properties alone had me signing on the dotted line. Chloe…" He half-smiled. "Think about what this could mean for people, for _us_ …"

She frowned. "Given that this isn't out in the general public, I'll go with the assumption that the FDA hasn't approved it… Meaning I just injected you with something that we can't be sure won't cause horrible reactions… For all we know, it could revert back on itself and start killing you. Oliver… We don't know what this is." She held the empty syringe out to him. "Until this is out of its testing phase and we know what it could mean, I don't want you using it anymore…"

Jumping off the table, he reached for her shoulders. "But Chloe, look at me… I feel _great_ , better than I ever have." His eyes widened in emphasis. "I was _shot_ , nearly _dead_ , but I feel like I could go a few rounds with _Clark_ right about now." He grinned. "This is a huge breakthrough…"

"Maybe… _One day_ …" she half-agreed, nodding. "But until I know it's not going to do far worse, I need you to leave it alone."

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "I don't need it anyway… Look, why don't you wash up and we'll finish patrolling?" he suggested.

She blinked. "Patrolling." She shoved his shoulder. "You nearly _died!_ Right now I feel like burning your leathers and checking you into the hospital. So _no_ , I'm not going anywhere…" She looked around at the bloody rags and then down at herself. "But I am going to clean up."

He stared at her a long moment, his feet fidgeting. "You're right… I'll help you put everything away."

"No, it's…" She shook her head. "Go take a shower, change out of your suit…" She looked up at him, the night weighing heavy on her expression. "I need a minute anyway."

Nodding, he backed up, gathering his vest before he left for the bathroom.

Taking a shaky breath, Chloe bent to her knees and buried her face in her hands, trying to breathe through the pain in her chest. She didn't know if she was angry or scared or a mixture of the two, but she was definitely overwhelmed. Tears flooding her eyes, she squeezed them closed and tried to focus on her breathing. _He was okay. He was fine. He was alive._ It was her mantra.

* * *

Later that night, Oliver sat at the desk he'd earlier been sprawled across. A few hours ago he'd been on the verge of death and now he felt fitter than ever. He could feel energy coursing through his veins, begging to be put to good use. Chloe was fast asleep in her bed and while he'd agreed to stay home now that she was lying down, he felt like he'd be of better use out in Metropolis. The argument she made for him not to take it again was valid and maybe if his mind wasn't running a mile a minute he'd have let it be. But while he sat there at the desk, holding her hooded jacket in his hands, his jaw ticked.

Tonight he had almost died. Tonight he had been shot. What she hadn't realized was it had almost been her fate, too. Oliver slid his forefinger through the hole in her white hood, where inches away her face would've been. One of the reasons he'd gone along with Dr. Black's research was because he could see what good it could do for him and Chloe and the team. They weren't like Clark Kent, they weren't impermeable. While Bart had super speed, he could still be hurt if he were ever caught. While Victor's skeleton was metal, half his body a man-made computer, he was still a flesh and blood human. While AC was at his prime in the water, stronger than most human men could ever dream of, put him in the sun and he wilted, weakened. And Chloe… she was just a woman, just a human wearing a suit and picking up the mask of justice. She wasn't endowed with any powers to help her out of a scratch, just instinct and the skill of a true fighter.

But this… this could revolutionize them. This could _save_ them before they ever needed saving.

So yes, Chloe was right. Waiting would be smart, _safe_ , but how long until another gun was pointed in their direction? How long before he was trying to staunch the blood as _she_ died before him? What if the FDA approved it too late? It couldn't resurrect her and he for damn sure wasn't about to let her die. And who better to test it than somebody who put himself in danger's way more often than anyone else? Why _not_ him? Why not let him do this and prove to her that it worked? And then they could all be as strong and as safe as Clark Kent was. They could face danger without the fear that it would be their last night, their last breath.

He came to the conclusion then that for once in their friendship he would have to make this choice without Chloe. _For_ Chloe. And he convinced himself that she would understand, she would approve, when everything came to light.

With that, he held her hood tight in his hands and he stared down at the bullet hole that could have meant her death. And he knew… there was no going back.

* * *

When Chloe woke the next morning, she found Oliver doing yoga. Since he usually waited for her to wake up, she found herself confused.

"I made you breakfast," his voice interrupted her thoughts. Though his eyes were closed, he seemed to notice her presence. "It's on the table." He moved to a standing position and grinned at her. "I think later we should lift weights…" He clapped his hands together, his feet fidgeting. "It's been awhile since you've done any muscle-building exercises, I thought we'd try something new."

She blinked. "You're _chipper_ this morning." She eyes him skeptically. "Get a good sleep?"

"The best," he boasted, nodding. "Hey, you feel like going for a run? I really just feel like a few miles would really loosen me up."

She smiled faintly. "That near-death experience really got you eager for the finer things," she joked.

He crossed the floor to her, grabbing up a towel and wiping the sweat from his chest. "It's opened my eyes…" He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "So whattya say? You wanna be my sparring partner?"

Her brows arched. "And miss out on breakfast?" She slid past him toward the kitchen. "Why don't you go spar by your lonesome for awhile and I'll get a little something on my stomach before I meet you in there, okay?"

He nodded abruptly, backing toward their work-out room. "Watch out, Sullivan, I'm feeling more on my game than ever."

She scoffed playfully. "Yeah, we'll see."

With a wink, he turned around and made his way back inside.

Chloe found a high-carb breakfast waiting for, which wasn't her usual but she went with it, eating as much of the oatmeal as she could, though she wasn't touching the dried figs with a ten foot pole. If he ever made her dried non-fat milk again, however, they were going to have a talk. Holding her coffee in hand, she made her way back to the sparring room, leaning in the doorway to watch him workout. After a few seconds, her brows furrowed. He was hitting the punching bag so hard it was actually cracking under the force and blood was coating his knuckles. Oliver was strong, she knew. Over the years, she'd seen him take and hand out a few severe beatings. Put him in a room with just about any opponent and he would likely win. But this was overkill.

Sweat glistening across his skin with the effort, he stared intensely, focused as he jabbed right and left, and repeat. His arms were moving so quickly, they were mere blurs to her eyes, pummeling the heavybag so hard it was heaving out of place. Her eyes widened as he hammered the bag one last time, causing the chain to finally give way. The bag crashed to the floor, cracked open and spilling its contents across the mats.

Hands on his hips, chest heaving, he stared at his a long second before spotting her. Breathing heavy, he clapped his hands. "Hey, you ready?"

She blinked. "After you _killed_ the bag…" She laughed slightly, feeling almost nervous. "How about we let you cool down and then we'll see how you're feeling…" She stared at his hands. "And maybe get those wrapped."

He frowned, glancing at his fists. "Huh, couldn't even feel it." He shrugged. "So… Weights?" He grinned.

A bad feeling filled her, one she couldn't shake off. "You know what… I just remembered that I have a lunch date with Lois…" She backed away slowly. "I'll call you later, okay? We'll get dinner or something?"

Brows furrowed, he watched her hurry out of the apartment.

* * *

Sprawled atop his bench, Oliver hands lay center on the massive barbell he was lifting high above, drawing it back down and then reaching back up. He could feel the burn in his biceps, the tension in his chest, the sweat as it dotted his skin. It was exhilarating. Since Chloe left, he'd done nothing but work out. There was an eagerness inside him to do _something_ and he couldn't stop it. Didn't _want_ to. With each stretch of his arms, the weight lifted high above, he felt his body fighting to be better, be stronger. And he loved it.

Distantly, he heard the elevator as it stopped at the top, the metal doors clanging open. He hoped it was Chloe. There was some primal desire inside him to show her just how much better he was, to prove to her that the drug was working better than ever intended.

"You're looking awfully healthy," Clark called out.

Glancing over his shoulder, he grunted. For some reason he couldn't understand, irritation built up inside him at the very sight of the farm boy. "It's call exercise, Clark." Sitting up, he grabbed his towel and rubbed down his neck and chest. "It's something we mere mortals have to do from time to time." Standing from his bench, he walked toward a table where his shirt was laid out.

"According to the Daily Planet, the Green Arrow was _shot_ last night."

Dragging the black muscle tee up his arms, Oliver half-rolled his eyes, scoffing to himself. With an arrogant smirk, he asked, "If I was shot, don't you think I'd be laying in a hospital or a morgue?" Frowning, he reminded, "I'm not bulletproof like you are, Clark. Besides," He dragged his shirt over his head, "You of all people should know better than to believe everything you read in the newspaper."

"It's the Daily Planet, not the Inquisitor." His brows arched for emphasis. "A _witness_ saw _you_ lying in a pool of blood."

"Well," Oliver threw his arms up, "maybe it was someone else with a preference for green."

Unconvinced, Clark shook his head. "Someone _else_ who had a sidekick in white out there defending their honor? The witness said somebody else came out of the woodwork, took out the gunmen and carried you off to safety… Now, I assume that's Chloe." He looked around for her, instead spotting gear lying haphazardly around. Brows furrowed, he walked toward the vest thrown across the back of a chair. "What's your Green Arrow gear doing out in the middle of the room?"

Distracted, Oliver glanced back at him. "I'm uploading a video. Check this out." Grabbing a remote control, he aimed it at the screen, turning it on. Lifting his Green Arrow glasses, he pointed them toward Clark, producing an image on the television of him through the glasses camera. "See that? Now I've got footage of the scumbags, so if they try to get away…" He tossed his glasses away and turned off the TV. "I can track them down."

"Oliver, you're getting sloppy. You gear's out in the middle of the room, the door's unlocked. That could have been your assistant coming through the door."

Pausing next to his desk, Oliver filled a glass with chilled water. "Yeah, you know what? I've had a lot on my mind lately, all right? Apparently, you were too busy using your powers to bale hay than to realize there's a crime wave in Metropolis." Dropping the water container back to the desk with a clunk, he looked up at him and sneered sarcastically, "Let me ask you a question…" He licked his lips. "Are you ever gonna get off your ass and finally do something for a change? Or you just gonna leave it up to me and Chloe? _Huh?_ "

Clark glared. "I didn't come here to be insulted."

"Well, you know what? There's the door." He motioned, walking away from him carelessly. "I don't remember you being invited."

"Oliver, what's going on with you?" he demanded.

Turning back to him, he shrugging, yelling, "Clark, I don't need to take advice from someone whose only worry in life is to protect his own identity, okay?"

"That's a lie. You know it!"

"Let me tell you something." Motioning behind him, he advanced toward Clark angrily, his voice raising with intensity, "When I'm out there, when I'm out on the streets, I'm protecting people, all right?" He raised his arm, water glass in hand, and used it to hammer home his point. "I got much bigger things to worry about! Like staying alive. Like keeping _Chloe_ alive!" Suddenly, the glass shattered beneath his grip, shards falling to the floor. With a growl, he shook the last of the glass away and stared down at the blood pooling in his palm.

Brows furrowed, Clark looked from him to the floor. Carefully, skeptical, he asked, "You okay?"

Grabbing up his towel, he wiped at the wound carelessly. "I'm fine. Just get out of here," he said, quieter now, thoughtful.

"You sure?"

"GO!" he yelled, motioning back toward the elevator, his brows raised, eyes wide.

Jaw clenching, Clark stared at him a moment longer. When Oliver simply stared back, Clark finally walked past him to leave, climbing on the elevator and closing the cage door behind him.

As the metal door snapped closed, Oliver walked to his desk drawer and dug out the extra syringes he'd gotten off of Dr. Black and took a seat at the desk. Taking one out, he stared at it a moment, his knee bouncing. This would make it all go away and he'd back to tip-top shape. No wound, no pain, nothing to get in his way when he was out patrolling tonight. And Chloe wouldn't ask questions, wouldn't know that he'd gotten into it with Clark because there'd be no sign of it. He licked his lips, half-desperate for the injection and yet uncertain if he should. He could hear her voice in his head, in his ear, telling him not to. But then he remembered the hood, how close it was, how it could've been her and not him lying on the table last night. He could've lost her.

Jaw tightening, he stuck the syringe into his arm and pressed down on the plunger. He felt as it coursed through his veins, a slow burn that made his toes curl. Breathing heavily, fighting a wave of guilt, he lifted his hand and dragged the towel away, wiping the blood as it went. His hand was stitched back together, clear of any previous cut, and inhaling deeply, he could feel the exhilaration of before. The need to do something, to get out there and prove to himself that he could be as good, if not better, at this hero thing than any number of Clark Kent's. But first… He needed to talk to Dr. Black and let her know she was on the right path.

* * *

Chloe glanced down as her phone rang shrilly. Picking it up, she checked the screen and found it was none other than Clark Kent. Eyes narrowed, she flipped it open and held it to her ear. "How'd you get my number?" she asked bluntly.

"I'm not as inept as you might think."

She scoffed. "We'll see… What's up, Red and Blue?"

"It's Oliver…" He sighed. "Look, I dropped by your apartment to check in… The DP was running a story that Oliver was shot—"

"He was," she admitted. "And thanks to a little liquid intervention, he managed to live… Although I'm starting to wonder if the Oliver I revived is really my Oliver at all…" Wondering if she said too much, she shook her head. "I'm guessing he wasn't his usual charming self when you dropped by."

"He was… angry. And his gear was just lying around."

Closing her eyes, she frowned. "Look, Clark, I realize you're probably used to sticking your nose in other people's business… Trust me, as a reporter, I know the feeling. But I need you to back off on this. I will handle it."

He sighed and she knew he wasn't about to give up on it so easily. "I know I don't know you guys very well and trust is earned, but I feel like you and Oliver could be good allies and I don't want to turn my back on this… Look, Chloe, I saw him injecting himself with something… I don't think it was doctor prescribed."

Biting her lip, she felt her chest ache with the news. "It's this… _super drug_ that he's been funding… It's supposed to have some sort of healing power in it. I'm looking into it… Just, please, Clark… Leave this alone."

"Chloe, he's not himself right now, and based on his behavior… Frankly, I'm not sure you can handle him."

She shook her head. "You don't know him or us enough to judge that… If Oliver's out of control, I will reign him in." With that, she hung up her phone and took a deep breath.

For the first time in their friendship, Oliver had basically lied to her and while she didn't agree with Clark, she knew that something was very wrong and it couldn't go on.

Reaching for her phone once more, she hit three on her speed dial and listened to it ring.

"Hello?"

"Victor… Hey… I-I need you guys to come to Metropolis…" She exhaled heavily. "We have an intervention on our hands."

* * *

As Oliver walked through Dr. Black's laboratory, he could feel an anxiousness working beneath his skin. He stretched his hands, feeling every bone and tendon as they moved to comply. Spotting the good doctor as she wrote notes on her various little lab mice scurrying about in their plastic containers, he made his way toward her. "You're a miracle worker, doc."

She looked up, spotting him, and her mouth puckered in disappointment. "We need to talk, Mr. Queen."

"We certainly do." Tucking his arms behind his back, he nodded his chin up, telling her, "I finally found myself injured badly enough to use the RL65… And it _works_ ," he nodded for emphasis. _"Perfectly_."

She stared up at him, looking rather surprised, her eyes wide.

"And not just once. I cut my hand and after one injection, I was completely healed."

Staring at him a moment, her eyes cut away and she told him, "Well don't take anymore," before moving to walk past him.

"Last time I checked, doctor," He turned, smirking darkly, "you work for me."

"The lab mice have been exhibiting irrational cognitive behavior," she explained seriously. "And more troubling… violent tendencies."

Unconvinced and feeling annoyed, he sneered, "I'm not a mouse. I feel fine."

"Do you?" She looked up at him wonderingly, brows arched high. "No… lapses in judgment? No… sudden outbursts of anger?"

Swallowing tightly, he nodded. "Not really…" His eyes narrowed. "But I am starting to feel one coming on right now."

"It's not worth risking possible psychosis just so you can climb Mount Everest or… _parachute_ out of your Learjet," she argued, half-rolling her eyes.

"This isn't about my _recreational activities_ , doctor," he exclaimed, leaning in to make his point before he walked past her, feeling a tremble of anger run through his every muscle.

She stared up at him, wide-eyed.

"We're on the verge of a medical breakthrough that could save countless lives... I'm more than honored to be the guinea pig."

Surprised and unnerved by his behavior, she simply stood slack-jawed before him.

Grabbing up a handful of RL65 vials, he stuffed them in his pockets. With a sarcastic and disturbing smile, he told her, "Trust me, I can handle the occasional temper tantrum," before turning around and leaving.

Dr. Black watched him go, breathing a little harsher than before, her eyes darting to the floor as she questioned the ramifications of what just happened.

* * *

As Oliver left the building, his phone rang. Reaching for it, he dug it out of his pocket and checked the ID, smiling to himself as he hit the talk button and brought it to his ear. "Hey Sunshine," he greeted. "Where are you? I wanted to talk to you about something…"

"I wanted to talk to you, too," she murmured carefully. "Ollie… Clark called me."

Oliver's jaw ticked, his smile fading away. "Clark," he repeated, his voice taking on a noticeably darker tone. "I didn't realize you two were getting so buddy-buddy."

"We're… _not_ ," she answered. "Look, he said… You were acting strangely when he dropped by. You were… _angry_ and out of sorts…"

Licking his lips, Oliver climbed into his car and slammed the door beside him. "Given how clueless the farmboy is, I'm surprised he noticed anything," he muttered sharply. "So he dropped by at a bad time, I'll send him an apology card later."

"That's not what this is about… And since when do you dislike Clark? A couple weeks ago you were practically signing him up for hero duty," she reminded.

"That was before I realized we don't _need_ him… He can stay on his farm and play with his hay for all I care; we don't need his negativity or his naivety… We can do this without the local man of steel, right? We're stronger and smarter than him and with this RL65, Chloe…" He sighed thickly. "We can _do anything!_ "

"You told me you weren't going to use it again," she murmured quietly, the disappointment in her voice obvious.

"Damn it, Chloe!" He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Why can't you see how huge this is? Why can't you trust me when I say this could revolutionize what we do?"

"You're not _thinking_ clearly!" she argued. "You're running around, hyped up on your own variety of steroids, and you're _lying_ to your friends!"

"What'd Clark tell you? Huh? So I lost my temper a little. You get him to _spy_ on me, Chloe? Hm? Your new little hero and his holier-than-thou appeal see me shooting up and call to tattle on me? That it?"

"Oliver, will you _listen_ to yourself? Clark called me because he was worried… He went to see you because he thought you were hurt and suddenly you're treating him like he's not important anymore…" She sighed, shaking her head. "He thinks you're out of control and he doesn't know you like I do, he doesn't _care_ like I do, so you know what…? He's not going to see Oliver; he's just going to see some half-crazy guy with a sudden power complex and enough juice to get him into serious trouble…" She paused, taking a deep breath. "I want you to stop… I want you to return whatever you have left of that RL65 and if we have to, we'll get you into a treatment center… I will stay with you the whole time, Oliver, but you can't keep doing this."

"A _treatment_ center," he spat. "You think I'm a drug-addict, Chloe?" His chest burned, hands fisting tight around the steering wheel. "Is it Clark… or _you_ who thinks I've lost control?"

"I think you're playing with fire… and you're too deep into it to realize you're getting burned…" she whispered brokenly.

"I'm not," he croaked, his voice giving way. He could feel his hands, his body, shaking. "I can handle this. _We_ can handle this… Chloe, if you just tried it, if you knew what it _felt_ like… There's nobody stronger, nothing that can _hurt_ you… We'd be _untouchable_." He wiped viciously at a tear that broke from his eye.

"Ollie, _please_ …"

"No!" he yelled, burying his face in his hands and trying desperately to inhale air while his lungs felt like they were burning up, too full and too empty at the same time. Holding the phone tight between his head and his shoulder, he ground his teeth together. "I can't- I _won't_ do this without you… You're the only person who matters to me… The only person I care about saving."

"That's not true, Oliver… You're a hero, you save people _every day_ … And you have friends, team mates, that love and care about you. And they only want the best for you. They don't care if you're as strong as Clark. They trust _you_ , they believe in _you_ … That's why this team works, because we're real people doing the right thing…" She sniffled. "You _don't_ need this drug."

"I need _you_ … I j-just…" He sighed, his fingers pressing hard into his eyes and scraping down his face. His skin felt too hot, his entire body felt wrong. "Chloe, I need you… I need you to understand this and support this. Please… _Please,_ Chloe…"

She paused and all he could hear was the quiet shallow inhale and exhale of her breath.

Finally, she replied in an emotional, trembling voice, " _No_."

Oliver snapped, something inside of him letting lose as he crushed the phone beneath his hand and hollered until his voice left his throat raw.

He'd lost her. She was walking away. She wouldn't stand at his back. She—She _abandoned_ him.

Eyes wide and bloodshot, he felt the tears as they built up but could care less. Breathing heavily, his chest heaving, he shook his head. This was all that thugs fault. If he hadn't been shot, he wouldn't have taken RL65, and Chloe wouldn't be doing this. He could've brought Chloe to Dr. Black and she could've explained how incredible it was, how much it could help them. If it wasn't for that robber…

Snarling, he pulled out onto the road and sped home. It was time he took a good look at the footage and get out there and find him. He had to pay for this; for everything he ever did. Justice would prevail. Green Arrow would make it so.

* * *

A backpack appeared through the glass window of a skylight, followed by a man crawling through, hinges squeaking in protest. Shoulder-length hair slicked back the same as it had been the night they met, only confirmed Oliver's first thought.

He smirked. Since this place the thug was coming out of certainly wasn't his apartment, he was feeling proud of himself for having tracked him down, in progress of yet another crime. His adrenaline pumped quick through his veins; justice on the horizon.

Closing the window carefully, the man grabbed up his bag of goods and turned around, coming to a sudden halt as his eyes found the Green Arrow staring at him. He let out a shaky breath in surprise.

"I'll take that," Green Arrow said, his distorted voice rather smug.

He took a half step back, surprised to see him alive. "I put a bullet in your chest."

"And now you're gonna pay for it," he growled.

The man lunged for him, arm outreached, but Green Arrow blocked him, flipped him over his shoulder and sent him crashing to his knees on the cement roof. Lifting his crossbow, he aimed it for the perp and sneered.

Smirking up at him, the thug only said, "I don't think so." With little fear, he lurched to his feet and ran for the ledge, jumping straight over and swan-diving helplessly to the ground below. Oliver walked slowly to the roof ledge, putting his bow away and looking over to find the man's arms and legs lying at a funny angle. His leg gave a twitch and within seconds, he was pulling himself up on the hard, wet cement that should have meant his end.

Making his way down, Oliver snuck up behind him.

"Hey buddy," he called, getting his attention. As the man turned, Oliver grabbed him by the front of his jacket. Throwing him face-first against a chain-link fence, he held him captive. "How'd you survive that fall?" he growled.

"Yoga," he snarled sarcastically. "Now let go of me!"

Oliver shoved him again. "You tell me how you were able to heal or I'm calling the cops!"

"You'll call the cops anyway."

Whirling him around, Oliver slammed his fist up into his stomach. Through grit teeth, he growled, "You may be able to heal, but that doesn't mean you can't feel pain!" He leaned his forearm hard on the man's throat.

Coughing, he shook his head. "Let go!"

"Start talking!" he yelled.

"There's this  _doctor_  that comes to the halfway house…" he admitted. "We get these shots they say are vitamins." He smirked darkly, brows arching. "That's some kind of vitamin, huh?"

Oliver shoved his arm harder against his chest. "What's the doctor's name?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

He shook his head, demanding viciously, "What does he look like?"

He stared hard at him, eyes wide, and answered, "It's not a he... She's a  _chick!_ "

Teeth clenched, jaw twitching, Oliver realized what was happening and the anger inside him reached all new heights.

* * *

Chloe looked down at her phone and sighed, flipping it open, she frowned. " _Clark_ … Why am I not surprised to hear from you?"

"Look, I know you think you can handle this on your own and I'm not saying you can't, but… I just want to help," he replied.

"And I appreciate the offer, but I'm dealing with it…"

"You don't think maybe you're just a little too close to this?" he argued.

She sighed, closing her eyes as a headache began to throb at her temples. "Before you ask questions like that, maybe you should ask yourself if you'd do the same thing."

The line went quiet a moment. "I'm sorry, I just… I know that Oliver means a lot to you."

"Everything, Clark… He means  _everything_ … And I don't know if you know what that feels like or if you've even been so close to somebody that you would risk anything to keep them safe, but that's what this is…"

He was thoughtfully silent before finally asking, "Have you found out anything? Have you  _talked_ to him?"

"Yes and yes." She frowned, shaking her head. "Look, I've done some digging into this Dr. Black and I had a friend analyze the contents of the RL65… Basically, it's a cutting-edge molecular modifier that regenerates tissue."

"Healing, like we thought."

"Like they wanted. The problem is it packs a mean punch to a part of your brain called the amygdala, which triggers violent and aggressive behavior. Now, obviously, they hadn't expected this to happen or maybe they thought they could balance out the effect somehow, but right now, all I really care about is making sure Oliver gets it out of his system… I'm on my way to Dr. Black's office now… I'm hoping she might have something to flush it out as quickly as possible. But I'm not holding my breath."

"Chloe, if she's supplying the drug, there's a good chance Oliver will show up for more…" he reminded her, skeptically.

"Clark, if you're trying to warn me that Oliver might hurt me, you're wrong…" she said firmly. "He may not be himself right now, but he's on a justice kick, not a raving rampage…" She shook her head. "He'd never hurt me."

"At least let me be there to keep an eye out…" he suggested hopefully.

She scoffed. "I don't need a knight in shining armor. I'm no damsel."

"For peace of mind then… Please, Chloe? I just want to help."

She shook her head. "If you get here in time, then great, but I'm not waiting up." She looked up at the building before she stepped inside. "You need the address or-?"

With a whoosh of wind, he suddenly appeared next to her. "I'm not inept with computers… and after you mentioned Dr. Black earlier, I did a little digging of my own," he admitted, fidgeting slightly.

She arched a brow at him. "Did you want to go first, make sure there aren't any booby traps I should watch out for?" Without waiting for a reply, she walked past him and down the hall. "She's on the main floor."

Clark looked around, spotting a floor plan and resident listing on the wall. "So Oliver owns this lab?"

She glanced back at him. "He owns a lot of things…"

He frowned. "You don't like me much, do you?"

"I don't  _know_ you," she returned, staring at him dubiously.

"Are you always this untrusting?" he wondered, tucking his hands in his jeans.

"Habit," she muttered absently.

"Even with Oliver?"

Turning around, she frowned at him. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm just wondering…" He shrugged slightly. "How a journalist and a billionaire with a secret identity found each other."

"The secret identity came later… We met at a benefit; I was taking notes and he was charming the masses…" She half-smiled to herself in remembrance. "He spotted me, thought he recognized me… My dad works for him, so I let that  _awful_ pick-up line slide…" She rolled her eyes fondly. "And from there it's all history…" She frowned back at him. "Any more questions?"

He pursed his lips.

Spotting the open door leading into the lab, Chloe hurried her steps, but as she made it inside, she slowed. The room looked ransacked; supplies, papers, even the lab mice containers were turned on their sides. And as her eyes took it all in, they fell on a lone woman lying limp in the middle of it all. Her eyes widened and she watched as Clark hurried ahead, kneeling beside her and reaching to check her pulse. Chloe walked through the mess, stepping over shattered glass measuring tools.

"She's dead," Clark told her.

"And her place has been completely pillaged," she mused, looking around.

"Look, drugs or no drugs, I don't believe Oliver would kill someone."

She stared at him a moment. "Then you're smarter than you look…"

Clark frowned at her, but his eyes suddenly caught something above her head. "Chloe…" He nodded up. "An arrow."

She turned, staring darkly at the green shaft protruding from a wall. "It doesn't prove  _anything_ ," she argued, shaking her head. "For all we know, he showed up too late, interrupted whatever happened here…"

"But who else would know what was going on here? Who else had reason to kill her?"

"Why would he kill if he needed her? If he need the drug, he needs  _her_ …" she exclaimed.

"And if she didn't want to hand it over willingly…" he said wonderingly.

She scoffed, eyes narrowing. "You know, for a second there I was actually starting to like you…" Turning away, she scanned the mess. "We need to find a lead."

Clark squinted his eyes, gazing around the room and then suddenly stopped on a steel safe. Crossing to it, he reached for the handle and turned sharp enough to yank it from its hinges.

"Convenient," she muttered, following after him. "What've you found?"

Fingering through them, he turned back toward her, handing over half the stack of papers he found. "These folders are from a halfway house in Metropolis called Second Chance. This doctor, she was giving the kids there the same drugs Oliver was taking."

Opening her top folder, Chloe looked down at the brochure inside and scowled. Her face darkened knowingly. " _Lex_ 's foundation funds this halfway house."

Understanding, Clark glanced back at his folder and then back to her. "Lex co-opted Oliver's scientist. These two have been at each other since high school."

"And Oliver was in his way again… If he came back looking for more and found out she was experimenting on people without even  _telling_ them…" She sighed, shaking her head. "He won't let that slide… Especially not in the state he's in."

Clark nodded. "If Oliver found out Luthorcorp was behind this,  _Lex_  could be the next target…"

Chloe bit her lip.

Things just got a lot more complicated.

* * *

Lex Luthor, metal briefcase in hand, walked down a darkened hallway with his bodyguard at his back.

"The car is ready, sir."

Lex glanced at him, reaching down to put in the security code for the door.

Suddenly, an arrow struck the bodyguard square in the back, an electrical charge incapacitating him. Falling limply to the ground, immobilized and unconscious, he left the view down the hall wide open for Lex to spot none other than Green Arrow staring back at him.

"Sorry, Luthor…" He raised his handheld crossbow. "Work's not over yet."

Brows furrowed, Lex looked from his bodyguard back to the vigilante.

Within minutes, Oliver had hustled him back into his office and shoved him into his chair, before slamming a paper down in front of him and aiming his crossbow once more. He felt fidgety, his latest dose of RL65 pumping through his veins and making every nerve sing.

"What is this?" Lex demanded.

"Sign on the dotted line and all your assets will be divided among the fifty global charities listed below."

Expression screwed up with confusion, Lex asked, "Would you mind telling me what I've done to deserve this?"

He sneered. "After your lofty support of the Second Chance Halfway House, I think it's a natural step." He stepped back, circling the desk, never lowing his bow. "I went by to check out the facility… After some  _gentle prodding_ , the director told me what you and Dr. Black were doing to the residents…"

"He was _lying_ ," Lex exclaimed, glaring up at him.

"So then I went to pay the good doctor a visit, and guess what…?" He cocked his head. "She's dead."

Lex flinched, pursing his lips.

Oliver clenched his teeth. "I knew you weren't a saint, Luthor, but  _killing_  a woman to cover your tracks?"

He sat forward slowly, saying bluntly, "You're delusional."

Oliver's hands flexed around his crossbow before he extended it further, close enough to have Lex eyeing the sharp tip dubiously. "Sign it," he ordered.

Grabbing the pen, Lex tossed the lid off and then poised it above the paper. But before a drop could touch it, he stopped and shook the pen.

Brows furrowed, Oliver waved his crossbow angrily. "What the hell are you doing?"

Lex held up the pen. "It's out of ink." Slyly, his free hand reached beneath the cover of his desk and drew his gun out from where it was holstered to the underside. Aiming it for Oliver, he yelled, "Drop it."

Oliver backed up slowly, never lowering his crossbow. With a smirk, he said, "You first."

Circling his desk, Lex raised a brow. "What do you this is faster...? An  _arrow_ or a  _bullet?_ "

Oliver didn't so much as flinch. "There's only one way to find out."

Simultaneously, they squeezed their triggers on their weapons. The bullet and arrow met mid-way, gracing as they whizzed past each other, before slamming painfully into their intended target. Both Lex and Oliver were rocked off their feet by the force, landing on their backs on either side of the room.

Panting on the floor, Oliver could feel the bullet in the left side of his chest, agony tore through him. Reaching for his utility belt, he found one of the vials of RL65 and brought it up to his mouth, pulling the cap of the end with his teeth. Raising his opposite arm, he plunged it deep into his vein and let it flow. With a sigh of relief, he let his head fall back as he grinned in gratitude.

A burst of air filled the room before Clark suddenly called out. "Oliver!"

Rolling to his side, feeling as the heavenly purple liquid took affect and rid him of his bullet wound, Oliver looked up to Clark, frowning.

Looking past him to the other side of the room, Clark spotted Lex immobile on the floor. "What have you done?" He rushed across to him.

Sitting up, Oliver replied, "He pulled a gun, Clark. I had no choice."

Clark shook Lex's arm, reaching for the pulse at his neck. "Lex?" When he didn't feel anything, he said a little more worriedly, " _Lex?_ "

Standing up, Oliver walked casually toward him, feeling a warm sluggish buzz all throughout his body. "Now let nature take its course," he recommended.

Looking back at him, his eyes wide, Clark stood up and walked toward him. "Oliver, that's the drugs talking. It's not you."

"Hey, that  _drug_  is the second best thing that ever happened to me, Clark," he argued, smiling rather manically. Screwing up his face, he reminded, "We're not bulletproof like you, all right? We have to do whatever it takes. We  _need_ that drug."

"What  _we,_ Oliver?" He threw his hands up, motioning to the empty room. "You're standing here  _alone!_ "

"She'll come around!" he hollered.

Clark's brows furrowed. "Who?  _Chloe?_ You think  _Chloe_ is going to start taking it, too?" He shook his head. "She's  _worried_ about you, Oliver… She wants to get you help."

"Help!" he laughed sarcastically. "I don't  _need_ help! I've got all I could ever need in these little needles, Clark…"

"And what about Chloe?  _Huh?_ What about what  _she_ needs?"

His face darkened. "You don't  _know_ her like I do…" He stabbed the air with his hand. "So don't  _act_ like you have  _any_  idea what she needs!"

"I know she needs you… I know enough to see that she is  _terrified_ about what you're doing to yourself!"

His jaw ticked. "And big hearted Clark Kent has to save the day, right? You wanna be her new hero Clark, that it? You wanna take my place in her life!  _Huh?_ " he yelled, becoming progressively louder.

"What?  _No!_ I just… I want you to get  _help_ , Oliver! This, what you're doing, how you're acting, it's not  _you!_ "

"Or  _maybe_ you're just worried because there's new game in town, right? Maybe you don't like that there's someone just as bulletproof as you are…" He waved his hands around. "Maybe you're finally starting to realize that I'll do what you  _won't!_ "

Clark reached out and grabbed him by the front of his vest. Through grit teeth, he exclaimed, "Oliver, you're not a killer!"

"No, but  _he_ is, Clark!" He shook his head, leaning in to tell him persuasively, "Listen to me, you and I both know the world's a better place without Lex Luther." Eyes wide with crazed encouragement, he smiled.

Clark paused, some part of him agreeing, but finally he said, "That's not for us to decide…  _Oliver_ …" He shook him a little. "Where are the drugs?"

"Lex," he told him, shaking his head. "He took it all." His brows furrowed. "He took it all from the lab." His eyes darted toward the silver briefcase.

Clark released him, walking across and tearing the case open easily. He eyed the contents and finally pulled out a syringe, filling it with the purple RL65.

Swaggering toward him as he made his way back to Lex, kneeling next to him, Oliver watched carelessly, his head cocked, eyes narrowed.

Clark stuck it deep into Lex's arm but before he could push the plunger, Oliver reached out, putting a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Let him die."

Lashing out, Clark through his arm back and sent Oliver flying across the room, crashing into the wall and sliding to the floor. Returning his attention to Lex, he administered the RL65. Reaching across, he pressed his fingers to Lex's neck, waiting for a pulse… but found nothing.

Seconds passed and Lex remained unresponsive, unmoving.

Blinking rapidly, Clark stood up. Dazed with shock, he stared down at Oliver. "You killed him…"

Oliver pushed himself up, staring in confusion at Lex's body.

"You killedhim…"

Suddenly, Lex moved just a little, giving a soft grunt of pain.

Surprised, Clark looked back and then looked over to Oliver.

Moments later, as Lex stirred back to consciousness, the room was empty save for him.

* * *

Oliver stalked through his apartment, Clark hot at his heels. "You realize you could've been a  _murderer_ tonight if it weren't for that drug…"

"Yeah, pretty sure I've been hyping the properties the last few days, Clark…" He turned around, smirking. "Like I said, it's a  _miracle_."

"No, it's not, Oliver…" He shook his head. "I'm getting rid of it.  _All_ of it. And that includes whatever you have stashed in this apartment."

Licking his lips, he snarled, " _No_ , you're not."

Clark stared back seriously. "Yes… I am."

Oliver's jaw ticked. "Y'know, now that we're on a more even playing field, Clark, I really don't think you're in the right place to tell me what's going to happen."

He frowned. "I don't want to hurt you… but I will if I have to."

"Bring it on, Farmboy." Oliver reached for his crossbow, raising it in a flash, but before he could even so much as release a warning arrow, it was kicked from his grip by an unseen force.

Confused, Oliver's eyes darted to and fro, searching for his attacker.

Clark took a step forward but then paused. "Get out," a voice said near his ear. His brows furrowed, mouth opening as if to argue. "I got this." With a sigh, he glanced one last time at Oliver before turning around and leaving.

Oliver was bent forward, legs parted, feet dug in, ready for battle. He tipped his head, listening hard, trying to get a read on where his mysterious attacker was.

He thought he heard something to his left and reacted, throwing his arm out, waiting for it to hit a solid body, but only found empty air.

Suddenly, a fist hit his gut and he snarled, backing up until he got his footing once more.

"You're on edge," a voice called out; male, familiar. But it was distant, not close enough to have been who hit him. "You attack without thinking, without strategizing."

He blinked, breathing heavily, his eyes searching for a face to match the voice. An elbow met his shoulder and he stumbled forward. His hands pushed him back up and he stretched his fingers before furling them into fists.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he muttered darkly, his eyes thinning.

A rush of air at his left had him turning, eyes darting quickly. Another at his back and he turned again, his every nerve and muscle twitching in reaction.

"You're suspicious," another voice called out, not the same as the last. Still male, still familiar. "Doesn't matter who it is. You just need to get them.  _Hurt_ them."

A kick met his ribs, knocking the air from him and he rolled to the side, clutching his side. Shaking it off, he tried to focus, tried to listen for footsteps, even the tiniest of noises. And then he heard it, a shoe on the floor, rubber squeaking ever so quietly. He smirked, jaw ticking, and attacked. He punched, but his fist met mostly air, lightly grazing a shoulder. Short, they were much shorter than him. He attacked again, felt a hand grab his forearm and use it to shove him to the left before a knee met his stomach once more.

Instead of letting the pain get to him, he put force behind his arm and shoulder and through the unseen body hard, away from him. He expected to hear it crash, instead he heard the slap of skin as his assailant managed to acrobat away from him, back-flipping seamlessly. His teeth clenched; he wanted blood, he wanted them to ache and thrash and feel it as he beat them, _showed_ them how much stronger he was.

"You're angry," a third voice called out. "Too angry to think, to react."

Distracted, he turned against, needing to know where it came from.

"Paranoid?" a distorted rasp met his ear.

He turned to attack but they beat him to it, kicking the backs of his knees. He rolled forward, forcing himself back up to his feet. Every time he moved, his unseen attacker followed. Hitting his every soft spot, over and over. Growling, he struggled to fight back, but his focus was off, he was too jazzed up. His adrenaline was pumping hard and quick, sweat stinging his eyes, his breath coming in harsh pants, and damn it he was too angry to expect the next attack.

His feet were kicked out from beneath him and he landed hard on his back. Suddenly, the zipper on his belt opened and the RL65 spilled out. An invisible boot came down and crushed the drug, spilling its purple contents all across the hardwoods.

"NO!" he cried viciously before reaching up, grabbing onto the front of his attacker's shirt and throwing them back. As they went, he followed, rolling on top of them. He slammed them back against the ground, his knuckles white with pressure as he drew his fist back. Before he could hit them, however, he saw the shine; the slight sparkle, and he paused, his brows furrowed.

It was enough time for her to flip them over and pin his shoulders down.

Panting, he stared up at her, though he couldn't make out anything but the faint shine of the chameleon effect on her suit. He reached up, his hand gently touching her hood, and he pushed it back. Slowly, her blonde hair appeared and then her face. She stared down at him, her eyes red-rimmed.

"You," he murmured, looking hurt. His eyes darted away. He didn't even see Clark leave, but he'd been the reason for her intervention. "For  _him?_ " he asked, his voice cracking.

She shook her head. "For  _you_ …" Releasing his vest, she cupped his face. "You're out of control… You're not being safe. You're hurting others. You…" Her eyes stared into him searchingly. "You believe what you're doing is right, but… you're  _wrong_."

"I'm  _stronger_ ," he argued. "I-I can fight anything,  _anyone_."

"Except me," she replied simply. Sniffling, she licked her lips. "You may be stronger than me, and you taught me so you know every one of my moves, but you won't hurt me… You'd  _never_ hurt me… Not intentionally."

His brows furrowed.

"You need  _help_ , Ollie…" A tear escaped down her cheek. "I won't let you do this to yourself."

"I'm making myself  _better_ —"

She scoffed. "You were the best to begin with," she told him strongly. "There was no improvement needed."

"Tell that to the bullet that nearly killed me… The bullet that nearly killed  _you!_ "

Her brows knotted. "What are you talking about? That-That  _night_ … Oliver, he  _missed!_ "

"That time!" he shouted, his jaw ticking. "And what about next time? What about when you get knifed for not reacting quickly enough? Huh? What if they can't stitch you up in time? What  _then_ , Chloe?"

She sobered. "That's just a risk we have to take…" She arched her brows meaningfully. "We knew what we were getting into when we signed up for this..."

"No, we were idealistic!" he yelled. "We thought we could save the world and never have to pay for it…" He panted, throwing his head back, the tendons of his neck stretching with the effort. Through grit teeth, he breathed, "You didn't see how close it was! You didn't see how close you were to  _dying!_ "

"I'm not dead, Oliver!" she exclaimed. "I'm right here and every second you do this you're  _pushing_ me away!" She smoothed her thumbs across his cheeks. "The Oliver I know, my  _best_ friend, who I  _love_ … is  _dying_ … because  _you're_ killing him." She stared at him seriously. "Now I want you to make this choice for yourself, I want  _you_ to realize that this is not the right way… But if you  _won't_ …" She sat back, her face falling.

Oliver looked around to see Victor, AC and Bart had all stepped into the room; the voices he'd heard earlier.

"I'll  _make_ you," she whispered.

Teeth clenched, he stared up at her, tears leaking out the corner of his eyes. "I don't want you to hate me," he murmured.

"I don't…" She shook her head. "I could  _never_ …"

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. "I'll stop," he agreed.

She sighed, shoulders slumping. "Good… Okay…" She looked up, wiping at her face. "Bart, could you clean up the—" In a blink, he'd done what she'd asked. She half-smiled. "And get rid of whatever else you can find."

He saluted her before disappearing.

"Victor, set up the machines… I want to get his stats before we do anything else. And AC… sparring room, please?" Chloe turned back to Oliver, stared at him a long moment and finally bent low to press her forehead to his. "We're going to get you back, Oliver…"

He nodded. Burying a hand in her hair, he drew her back down and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry."

Wrapping her arms around him, she nodded into the crook of his neck. "It's okay…" She stroked his hair gently.

His arms tightened around her.

She kissed the hammering pulse at his neck and squeezed him close. "We're gonna be okay," she promised.

* * *

That night, Oliver suffered. He sparred with AC until his body no longer felt like it was on a caffeine IV and then he took to his room. Lying in his bed, he fought as his skin tingled, itching, like it was screaming for just one more taste. A migraine hammered away at his temples, the sheer force of it knocking him off his feet. A constant sweat had him feeling uneasy, never able to fully get comfortable. He tossed and turned, kicking the sheets away. Finally giving in, he sat in the shower, beneath the cold spray, wishing it would take some of the heat from his skin and hating when it didn't.

Feeling claustrophobic, he had to leave the glass shelter of the shower and paced naked across the tile floor of his bathroom, running his fingers through and pulling at his hair. He felt desperate, half-crazed, and all he kept thinking about was how easy it was to slide that needle into his arm and just press down on the plunger, let that sweet purple liquid take it all away.

Chloe was never far from sight. She knocked at the door and he contemplated for a second making a break for the window. Realizing he was on the top floor and how insane that would be, especially since not even RL65 could put his every organ back in his body, he dragged on his sweat pants and joined her back in the room. She'd opened a window to let the cool air in but no matter how little clothing he had on or how deeply he breathed, it seemed to do little to calm him down.

"You'll feel better in the morning," she told him, a small measure of relief really.

"Great, that's only, what? Six hours away!" He laughed sarcastically, pacing from one end of the room to the other.

"Five," she replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "From her notes, the drug only circulates for so long… You've sweated most of it out."

"I can't do this…" He shook his head. "I can't. I can't. I can't. I—" He blew out a heavy breath and knelt, burying his face in his hands. "It hurts…  _Physically_ hurts…" He felt tears of frustration build up behind his eyes. "Just one more…" He looked up to her desperately. "Please, Chloe… One more and then I'll stop. I  _promise_."

She stared at him, disappointment marring her features, and he hated himself.

"No. No. Don't give in," he said, half to her and half to himself. "I can do this…" His eyes stared searchingly at the floor. "I can do this!" He nodded, swallowing tightly. His throat was dry and he crossed to search out another bottle of water. He'd already gone through eight, but with the sweat pouring out of him, he was more than a little dehydrated. Downing the bottle in a few quick gulps, he sat back on the bed. "I screwed up, didn't I?" he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.

She turned, her head tipping to one side. "I can see the appeal, you know… Never having to worry about what's around the next corner. Whisk away all the pain and the fear, but Oliver… That's what makes us human." Her brows furrowed. "You don't need to be invincible to be a hero… You already  _are_ one…" She stared at him searchingly. "If we go out there one day and one of us or both of us don't make it back—"

His jaw twitched, eyes darkening. "Chloe—"

"No, please… This is obviously bothering you…" She crawled across the bed to sit next to him, reaching over to take his hand in hers and threading their fingers. "Oliver, if I ever die out there from what we do… I don't want you to look back and think that some super-drug could've changed my fate…" Reaching up, she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. "I do this because I believe in it. I believe in you and me and our team… And if it means dying for those ideals, I'm okay with that." Her eyes flashed wide for emphasis. "Do I  _want_ to? Of  _course_ not… But there are people and beliefs worth my life…"

He frowned. "How heroic can I really be if I'd trade the whole world in just for you?"

She smiled softly. "About as heroic as me…" She stroked his face, tracing his cheek with her thumb. "We run around at night and we play hero in our fancy outfits, but in the end we're saving strangers… People who will never know the real us… It's hard to equate a world of strangers to the one person who matters most in our lives… And you're that to me…" Leaning in, she pressed her forehead to his cheek and sighed. "I would trade it all in, heroics and expensive computers and traveling the world, as long as I had you, alive and healthy and safe…"

Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her close. And in that moment, despite the fact that his skin felt on fire and his every muscle a jumpy mess, he was content. Closing his eyes, he buried his face in her soft hair. For the first time since he injected that drug into himself, he felt at ease. He didn't need to be anywhere else, doing something, anything. He didn't have some unknown desire inside himself to fight or destroy or prove his point. Because he had  _her_.

Even when he was out of his mind, half-insane on drugs and out to literally  _kill_ somebody, she had faith in him. She stuck by him. She never let him fall into his pit of despair or harangue himself to all who would listen. She picked him up, dusted him off, and told him he would be okay.  _They_ would be okay. And he loved her for that. More than he'd ever loved anyone before. More than he'd ever thought he  _could_. The truth was, he'd always loved her. Loved her in a way that wasn't strictly platonic or relegated to familial connection. She was his Sunshine. His saving grace. His  _everything_.

If the world ended tomorrow, he wanted to spend his last seconds with her. If war broke out, he'd want to be in the foxhole with her. If he was broke, destitute, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, he knew she would be there to piece him back together. Whatever the circumstance, whatever life threw at them, Oliver could count on one thing alone. She would be there next to him to face it. She would hold his hand until the very end. Every Friday night movie marathon and morning yoga session, every half a bagel she stole and meal she shared with him, every criminal they busted and benefit they went to, it all combined to bring them to this point. Her laughter and her smile and the way she always knew what he was thinking, how she expected the best of him and accepted the worst, it made up who they were, who she was and what she meant to him.

"I love you," he told her and he never meant it more than in that moment.

She smiled, looking up at him with that sweet understanding he'd always seen in her eyes. "I love you, too."

He kissed her temple and he held her close. He didn't explain that he was  _in love_ with her. Not just because he was currently coming off of a drug binder and she might not even  _believe_ him, but because the simple truth was he didn't deserve her. Even her friendship was too much to ask. She didn't see it and for that he was grateful. If he started spouting true declarations of love, she might have to take a deeper look at him and he was afraid of what she might find. Maybe he kept her on a pedestal, but to him she was the ultimate gift in a woman. Troublesome and snarky, yes, but also intelligent and beautiful and endlessly trustworthy and understanding. She knew his every mistake and didn't pass judgment. Hell, she was sitting next to him while he sweated out a drug that caused blinding rage and encouraged him to think murder was a good idea.

Maybe it was wrong, not to tell her. Maybe being in love with his best friend wasn't the smartest of relationship paths, especially when he knew it wasn't going to change any time soon. But his head was only now catching up to his heart, and the one thing they had in common was making sure Chloe was alive and safe and happy. And unfortunately, he couldn't convince himself he was the right man to fill that quota.

"We should sleep," she murmured on a yawn.

His mind was too wired, but he followed her as she laid back against the bed. She wrapped his arm around her waist and snuggled in close; not so unusual given how often they shared a couch. Hand splayed across her stomach, he felt her thumb stroke across his knuckles slowly. Burying his face at the nape of her neck, he breathed her in. "I'm gonna make this up to you," he promised.

"You can carve the turkey tomorrow," she replied, knotting their fingers together. "And all is forgiven."

He half-smiled gratefully.

He fell a little more in love with her and knew he was doomed.

* * *

The following morning, Oliver was sitting at his desk when Clark arrived. The elevator door opened and he stepped inside, looking over to Oliver skeptically. "Who am I dealing with, Jekyll or Hyde?" he asked in greeting.

Oliver chuckled. He waved his hands in a shrug. "Just plain old Oliver today, Clark."

He nodded slowly, surveying the desktop. "You haven't broken any glasses. That's a good sign."

Amused, Oliver smiled, nodding. "Right."

Clark grinned good-naturedly. "What made you come to your senses?"

Staring up at him, brows raised, he considered the question. "Actually... Chloe did." He licked his lips thoughtfully.

"I figured she would… She seems to have a pretty good grasp on what makes you tick."

Oliver ducked his head, smiling to himself. "She does… Truth is, this whole time, I just wanted to be like, or maybe  _better than_ , Clark Kent, you know?" His eyes fell. "I got it in my head that what I was doing took a lot more than what I had…" He pursed his lips. "In the beginning, I wanted to, uh… I wanted to have the ability to bring justice to the world without having to worry about getting killed in the process…" His chin fell, eyes staring at the desk a moment. "That night, when I was shot, I wasn't the only near-casualty…" He looked up at him earnestly. "Chloe was shot at too and… she could've died." He cleared his throat, admitting honestly, "There are things in this life that I'm not willing to lose…"

"I didn't know."

He nodded, lifting a shoulder. "She could never forgive me if I took another man's life…" He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure  _I_  could forgive me either…" Looking up at him, he admitted, "I came within an inch of doing just that and if it weren't for you…" His brow raised. "I  _might_  have."

"Oliver, you and Chloe do a lot of good in this world. You don't need to be indestructible to be a hero." He stared at him searchingly. "I don't think Chloe would want you to be any more than what you already are."

"Yeah. Well, you're right. I should, and I am, thankful for who I am and the abilities that I have… I wasn't seeing them then. I was a little jealous and…" He sighed. "A lot blinded by worry…" He nodded. "But I know it now and…" He half-smiled. "I can guarantee I won't be putting anything not FDA approved in my body again."

"Good… So, uh…" He looked around, shifting his feet. "To be honest, my mom wanted me to invite you and Chloe for dinner… The bird's waiting, so I thought…" He shrugged. "Now's as good a time as any to extend an invitation."

"Thank you, Clark…" He grinned, rising from his desk. "We appreciate the offer, but—"

Chloe entered the room then, drawing their attention. "Hey, Ollie, can you  _please_ find something to distract Bart? He's going to get food-poisoning if he doesn't lay off the turkey. It needs to finish cooking and—" She paused, spotting Clark. "Oh, hi…" She glanced back at Oliver and then returned to looking at him. "I suppose thank you's are in order…"

He half-smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "This mean you don't  _completely_ hate me anymore."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. "For a man of steel, you have very thin skin, Kent…" Hands on her hips, she shrugged. "Honestly, you're pretty good at swooping in at the right moment… I couldn't have gotten to him in time, so I'm grateful you were able to…" She glanced back over her shoulder. "I'd prefer to show my thanks through food, these verbal exaltations make me uncomfortable."

Clark grinned. "Thank you, but… I've got a turkey waiting for me at home." He looked between her and Oliver. "I hope you'll stick around… Metropolis needs all the help it can get."

Oliver smiled, nodding. "We'll do our best."

With that, Clark stepped back on the elevator and left them to their thanksgiving.

Chloe turned, looking up at him. "You done with your amends? The boys want to challenge you to some game or another on the play station."

Crossing the room, he wrapped an arm around her. "I think I can do that."

"Good… For a man who lives in the water, AC's getting a little high on himself and his gaming skills."

Snorting, he chuckled under his breath. "Let's show him who's boss."

* * *

Lois arrived for dinner baring gifts, thankfully store bought. "What's thanksgiving without pumpkin pie?"

"Good?" Victor replied, but helped her with her bags anyway, introducing himself as they walked.

"You didn't buy anything with nuts in it, did you?" Chloe worried, searching through the bags.

"Please, I have like a photographic memory…" she boasted, shrugging off her jacket. "You said Oliver was allergic and I kept it in mind… Wait, are pecans nuts?"

Oliver snorted. "Yes…"

" _Kidding_." She rolled her eyes. "I checked labels. Everything is peanut free and guaranteed." She clapped her hands. "So, who's going to introduce me to all the boys?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, but hooked her arm with her cousin's. " _Please_ behave."

She shrugged. "No promises…"

Sighing, she led her into the living room. "Bart, AC, and you've already met Victor…" She motioned toward them on the couch, all intensely distracted by the television. "This is my cousin, Lois."

"The crazy one?" Bart asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Hey, good looks run in the family." He winked. "You're still my favorite though, 'Licious."

She smiled. "Comforting." She looked up to her cousin. "That's Bart. And the blonde one currently beating everybody's high score is AC."

He lifted a hand absently.

"Charming, Arthur," Chloe said, clucking her tongue.

Apologetically, he turned around, but seemed to lose his thought process. "Uh, hi…" He smiled at Lois.

Her eyes flashed. " _Hi…_ " She smirked at Chloe, wiggling her brows for emphasis, before she circled the couch to take a seat up close and personal next to AC.

Scoffing in amusement, Chloe made her way back to the kitchen.

An hour and a half later, with the table set and food overflowing, everybody sat down at the table. Oliver drew out Chloe's chair, pushing it in for her before he took a seat to her left.

Bart sat across from them, fidgeting, his fork and knife at the ready. "Come on, this is like  _torture_ ," he whined, eyeing the food.

Victor shook his head, smiling indulgently. "You've been eating all day."

"Man, nibbling doesn't count!"

AC rolled his eyes. "Personally, I think somebody should monitor his eating… I'm surprised he doesn't have more than three plates already piled in front of him."

"What's your secret, pipsqueak? If I put away half those carbs, I wouldn't fit through the door," Lois wondered, brow arched.

"I'm full of surprises, mamacita," he replied, smirking.

"High metabolism," Chloe explained.

"There's high and then there're miracles," Lois said, eyeing Bart's plate.

"All right, subject changed… Before we eat, we go around the table, say thanks," Oliver said, brows lifting for emphasis. "Victor, you wanna start?"

"Sure…" He lifted his wine glass. "Okay, so this last year has been… unbelievable… I've made some great friends, found a few role models," He smiled between Chloe and Oliver, "Got an incredible job and… There are not enough thanks to say how good it is to be sitting at a table with  _mostly_ ," He glanced at Bart, "civilized people, eating a delicious meal… So thank you, to all of you, for giving me a better life."

Chloe smiled widely.

"What's with the  _mostly_ , dude?" Bart scoffed. "I am  _personally_ offended… for AC."

AC snorted, raising a brow. "Can I go next?" As they nodded, he sat back, raising his water glass. "As most of you know, I haven't had much of a family for a really long time… And usually I'm okay with that. I've never really felt lonely, as long as I've got a wide open ocean nearby… But in the last year, I've realized just how much better it is to have people you're close to. People you can trust and rely on. That will always have your back and never let you down…" He raised his glass. "You guys are family…" He raised a brow at Bart. "I've got a little brother, a couple older brothers," He nodded to Victor and Oliver, "And a  _sister_ …" He smiled at Chloe sincerely. "And I'm thankful that you found me, that you  _saved_ me, and that we're here today, together."

"Here, here!" Bart cheered, chewing on a bun.

Chloe pursed his lips at him.

"What? He was going on for  _ever_ , I was  _starving!_ " he argued.

She sighed. "Bart, why don't you go next?"

"All right, all right…" He squirmed in his seat. "Wasn't so long ago, I wouldn't be thankful for anything…" He shrugged. "I got by and I survived and, yeah, I guess I enjoyed what I had when I had it, but…" He frowned. "I knew it'd never last… And now…" He looked at each of them. "Fishman's a sap, but he's right… You guys are like my family…" He scoffed, smiling. "'Cept you won't kick me out if I don't live up to expectation…" He licked his lips uncomfortably. "I'm grateful for bossman and the beautiful Chloelicious…" he cocked his head slightly, smirking. "And for the tech-geek and fishboy, too…" He shrugged, nodding. "And I'm thankful you guys gave me a purpose."

Chloe smiled. "That was beautiful, Bart."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, flushing under her praise.

Oliver grinned, his arm spread across the back of Chloe's chair. "Lois, you wanna go next?"

"Sure… Uh," She looked around at them. "I don't know most of you, so I can't really talk you all up,  _but…_ " She turned in her seat, smiling at her cousin. "I'm thankful for my cool cousin, who's spending more time in Metropolis and giving me a little more Chlo-Lo time… Although, we should really sync up our schedules because there's definitely gotta be a better time than coffee breaks and the odd Sunday… I mean, what d'you even  _do_ every night? I—" When their raised brows, she grinned. "Sorry, off topic, um… I'm thankful for good friends, great family, Wi-Fi, spell-check, annnd…" She rolled her eyes to the side thoughtfully. "Oooh, maple donuts. Those things are like  _heaven!_ "

Laughing lightly, Chloe shook her head. "Heartfelt, okay… Well…" She turned in her seat, her eyes taking every one in slowly. "I'm  _beyond_ thankful. I'm living a life that completely blows my childhood expectations right out of the water." Her brows rose for emphasis, lips curving softly. "I've met  _incredible_ people, who I'm so grateful to share my life with, and I have an awesome and talented cousin who's  _so good_ about my crazy schedule and lack of face time," she teased gently. "And I have a best friend…" She turned, taking Oliver's hand in hers and squeezing as she stared up at him. "Who I will forever be thankful I met… Who exceeds every expectation and reminds me every day that regardless of how dark it gets, there's always a light at the end of the tunnel…" She stared searchingly into his eyes before returning her gaze to the others. "So thank you all for being here and sharing this day with us because around this table are all the people that mean the very most to me. You  _are_ my family and you always will be."

Lifting her hand, Oliver kissed the back affectionately, threading their fingers. "What am I thankful for…" he murmured, letting out a heavy breath. "Friendship… The kind that will always pick me up and dust me off and send me back into the game… Good people… From all walks of life, all backgrounds, all histories… Who come together to do something good and believe it's worth it… For Lois, who has a way of kicking me in the ass even when I don't deserve it," he said, looking over to her with a grin. "And who's right more than she's wrong, even when I don't tell her…" His brow furrowed thoughtfully before he turned back to Chloe. "For the only woman in the world who knows me inside and out and still stands by me, every day… Who makes me a better person…" He nodded. "To all of you," His eyes fanned around the table, "And to this delicious dinner we're about to enjoy."

Bart banged his fork and knife down heartily.

With a chuckle, Oliver nodded. "Let's eat."

Cheers rang out and dishes were picked up and passed around. From the bright red cranberry sauce to the thoroughly mashed potatoes. Butter and buns, candied yams and steaming stuffing. Gravy, green bean casserole, brussel sprouts, sweet potato casserole, butternut squash bread pudding, and of course the nicely browned turkey. Oliver watched, proudly, as his closest friends laughed and talked and shared amongst each other. Bart and AC wrestled for the last bun, which Victor conveniently stole for himself in the end. Lois flirted with AC, Bart tried to play footsies with Chloe but was not-so-kindly told to stop stroking Lois' leg, the cranberry sauce was accidentally dropped, permanently staining the carpet, and there wasn't nearly enough gravy to go around. The food was delicious, the company better, and Oliver knew and was happy that it would become tradition.

Chloe leaned into his side, resting her head atop his shoulder. "Next year, bigger table, more gravy, and Bart gets his own bag of buns," she told him, smiling.

Laughing under his breath, he nodded, and wrapped an arm around her, stroking her arm absently. "Next year," he agreed.

Because he would have a next year. He would have these friends and this same warm feeling of family and camaraderie. He may not have some super-drug to keep him going, but he had these people and their support. And that was more than enough.

 


End file.
